


Refuge

by Sei_Bellissima



Category: Griftlands (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bar Mom Fssh, Fever Dreams, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Posted During Early Access, Sal's not havin' a good time, Sickfic, Vomiting, Workskin Shenanigans, infections, nothing too crazy though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25142158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sei_Bellissima/pseuds/Sei_Bellissima
Summary: Sal brings back more than contraband from the cargo docks—something that throws her plans to confront Kashio right out the window.On top of that, she fears she’s being a burden on her dear old friend Fssh. Fssh just wants her to take it easy—because she hasn’t been able to do so in those ten long, painstaking years she spent slaving away at the lumin derricks.Unfortunately, humans are the most stubborn folks populating Havaria, and Sal is a token example.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 14





	1. A Wrench In The Plan

**Author's Note:**

> It was just about 2am when I initially wrote down this idea, Rook's boss battle theme was stuck in my head for whatever reason and I was about to board the ship in my Sal run at the time so like
> 
> This just happened
> 
> My first work in a new fandom for the first time in… 2 years? And whaddya know I whump the main character how original of me :P Also I don't think the card system really translates well into fic so like, you won't see it referenced in here at all lol. I tried to keep some things ambiguous; since characters swap places with every run. You can fill in those holes, if you wish. Also also, Sal has a pet
> 
> Also also also, I'm further experimenting with AO3's skins features; trying to see how far I can push them. You can hover over the words with dotted underlines to make a little box come up with some definitions for the words, just like in the game. Pretty nifty, huh? If you're on mobile, you'll have to tap the word to make it appear, then tap elsewhere to make it go away. If you don't want this at all hit the "Hide Creator's Style" button at the top
> 
> One more thing: I'm posting this while the game is still in early access, specifically at version 422092. At this time Sal's and Rook's stories are finished and playable but might possibly change, idk what the devs are really planning at the moment other than working on daily runs and Smith's story.
> 
> Speaking of Smith, if you aren't on experimental plz switch to it and try out his Bar Fight, he has the dumbest grin and it's hysterical and Bar Fight is loads of fun. Did you know, according to some flavor text I found in the files, kra'deshi have three livers, and apparently that's why Smith's able to consume the ungodly amounts of alcohol he does on what's probably a daily basis lol

It started out as a normal night—that is, if you count getting ambushed by giant, mutated monsters on a cargo ship normal. Sal had the help of a Jakes dockhand, Fssh's bouncer and a fierce little yote puppy (That she named Chompy), and was able to take them down, at least. She got away with some scrapes, bruises and a particularly large laceration on her leg. She wrapped it up as soon as she could; she didn't want whatever bacteria those creatures left behind infecting it.

And just like that, she was back at the Grog n' Dog, slamming the package on the counter with a lack of the care she normally had when she was dealing with important items. Lucky for her, Fssh's security measures weren't active at the moment, or she would've gotten zapped.

Speaking of Fssh; the kra'deshi was fitting Sal with a rather worried look right now. Pretty unusual coming from her. She always made sure Sal was okay, yes, but she never showed _this_ much concern.

"You okay there, kid?"

Practically throwing herself on top of a stool, Sal muttered, "I'm beat…" It wasn't a lie, her entire body ached and she felt exhausted, but that was expected after today's turn of events. To brush it off, she continued, "You might want to wash your hands after touching that package. Unless you want more warts."

The barkeep chuckled and took the package, setting it down somewhere under the counter. "I'm sure it's fine. I owe ya one, so how about a drink and a Fsshcake on the house?"

Sal looked up, smiling, yet her brows were raised sheepishly. "Can I skip the food for once? I'm not really that hungry…" Once again, it wasn't a lie: Sal had an odd churning in her gut after taking out the beasts attacking the ship. She initially chalked it up to the anxiety she had about the upcoming events, but now she wasn't so sure that was the case.

"You better take the food, kid. I know I'm no chef but I can't have ya starvin' on me now after everything we've been through." The drink was already by Sal's elbow, the Fsshcake jiggling around on a plate in front of her. Sal grimaced; it was a filling meal, but that was the only good thing about it. The texture, consistency _and_ taste was terrible. Not to mention the smell that would assault your nostrils if you were to stick them too close to it; it stank like a wild Vroc's behind.

Nevertheless, she got it down, washing away the taste with the swill. Her stomach was churning even more, now; in fact, she felt _nauseous_. She wondered if eating the whole thing was a bad idea.

Before Fssh could notice her discomfort, Sal caught her attention and asked to be let into her room. Her footsteps were clumsy due to her dizziness; her head was pounding. It must have been the alcohol; what else could it be? Yet, she had only one drink…

She heard Chompy pad in after her, then Fssh closing the door. She was too tired to think; to figure out why she felt like crap.

Sal didn't bother taking all her gear off before hitting the hay. The exhaustion and achiness had hit her like an Admiralty hammer and she wanted to sleep the bumps away. With the yote pup curled up beside her, she fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Sal woke up with a start. Something was very, very wrong; sweat slicked down her body, yet she was shivering like a drowned flead. Her stomach was doing flips—she felt like Hesh spit, to put it lightly. Chompy wriggled beside her and let out a high whine, the puppy giving its owner a few licks on the cheek.

She sat up, immediately regretting the action as she felt something rise up in her. A hand flew to her mouth, the other to her stomach; tears sprang to her eyes as she choked and sputtered, trying to keep it down—

Oh Hesh; she got vomit on the bed. The floor too. Chompy whined louder, trying to nudge her head under Sal's arm. But Sal barely noticed; she wasn't done...

Before she could make more of a mess, Sal bolted out of bed to the bathroom, chucking up the rest of her dinner and probably lunch. She heard a clatter and her door opening, much to her dread. Fssh was going to be upset with her now…

She heard the kra'deshi in question call out her name in alarm, before the footsteps got louder, stopping right by the doorway.

"Sal, what happened?!"

After she finished washing the acidic taste in her mouth, Sal turned, leaning heavily on the sink, and replied with a voice so raspy she sounded like she had swallowed a thorn bush from the bog, "I feel a little under the weather…" To further confirm her statement, a harsh coughing fit ripped out of her throat, making her hunch over.

"Hey, easy, kid." Fssh was at her side in an instant, gloveless fingers pressing at her forehead in concern. That was definitely too warm for a human. "I think it's more than just a little, Sal; you're burnin' hotter than a Havarian pepper. C'mon."

Even as she led Sal out of the bathroom, the girl was still hacking up a lung. Fssh sat her down against the wall. "'M sorry, Fssh…"

"Don't be sorry. I'll clean it up; won't be the first time I've done so. I'm guessing this was why you wanted me to wash my hands earlier?"

Sal smiled, a short breath coming from her nose. "Yeah. Wasn't warts, as it would turn out. They quarantined all the ships at the cargo docks because they received a Roaloch shipment. I see why now."

" _All of 'em?_ "

"Well, yeah, at first—" Sal was interrupted by another bout of coughs, "...but I convinced the person in charge to let all the ships except for that one come and go."

"Well, if you never went on that ship, then…"

"Hitch-hiking monsters. Two big, disgusting slimy things."

Fssh’s eyes widened, then she crossed her arms as she took in the info. "They're the ones that got your leg, I take it?"

Wow, Fssh was good. Sal had tried to cover up the bandages with her pant leg. Was she limping without realizing it? "Yup."

"Keep an eye on that; let me know if it starts feelin' funny. If we let any infection that might have gotten in there fester, it'll be bad news for that leg."

Sal instinctively hugged the wounded leg closer to herself as a grim look settled on her face. She nodded after a short moment.

"Anyway; it sounds like I should be the one apologizing. I sent you out there for me, Sal." Fssh had started to clean up the mess—starting with Chompy, because the stupid yote stepped into the mess and tracked it all across the floor. Once the puppy's paws were cleaned, she scuttled up to her owner with a yip and settled in her lap, looking up at her sadly.

Sal leaned back against the wall and idly scratched Chompy's chin. "Fssh, c'mon, you can't take blame for everything that happens to me."

"I promised your parents that I would keep you safe, Sal," Fssh growled as she gathered up the ruined sheets on the bed. "I'm not about to break it now. I know you can take care of yourself—Hesh, just look how long you made it by yourself as you finished off those old debts. But still…"

Fssh let out a sigh, her entire body drooping slightly. "I still worry."

"Wait… you made a promise? You never told me—"

"I guess I never did, huh?" Fssh paused in her cleaning, pressing a hand to the side of her face, right underneath her eyestalk. "Your Ma and I had a _long_ night playing cards. She was real emotional that night. Might've been the alcohol for all I know. But she just went on and on about everything she hated about Grout Bog. Then she just asked me out of the blue to protect you. I couldn't bring myself to say no."

Sal took it in with a long face and furrowed brows. "I…"

"It's like she knew she wouldn't make it out of there alive." With a sad look in her pale eyes, Fssh continued bundling up the sheets. "When I asked your father about it, he just shrugged, so I assumed he was okay with it."

"Fssh, I'm… I'm touched that you did that for them and I," Sal propped an elbow on her knee, resting her chin in her hand. "But I'm not a child anymore. You don't have to worry about me all the time."

"I know, kid, yet, I can't help it. A promise is a promise. I had thought I broke it once; I don't wanna go through that crushing guilt again." She disappeared out the open door – Sal's never seen the Grog n' Dog _empty_ , it must be closed – and came back a moment later with a neatly folded set of bedsheets, which she swiftly laid out on the mattress. With that, everything was cleaned—if it weren't for the lingering smell, you wouldn't have been able to tell that someone had just thrown up in there. Fssh drew back the covers and looked at Sal expectedly. The gloomy demeanor was now absent from her features, replaced with that concern she had before. "Get some rest while ya still can, kid."

Sal couldn't help but smile. "You're not my mom."

"I’m not, but I could be if you wanted me to." Fssh returned the smile with her own cheeky grin. Sal would've laughed if her throat wasn't killing her. Instead, she clambered onto the bed, Fssh tucking her in, then quickly disappearing before Sal could say anything about it, much to her embarrassment. Chompy had followed Sal onto the bed, curling up at her feet. She heard the bathroom tap running for a few seconds, before Fssh's returning footsteps.

A wet cloth was laid on her forehead. She knew it was supposed to help with the fever, but the chill from the cloth sent a shiver down her spine. Sal lifted herself up on one elbow, holding a hand against the cloth to prevent it from falling. "Fssh, isn't this a bit much?"

"No skin off my back, Sal. Stuff happens." Fssh looked her in the eye with a hand set on her shoulder. "Now, there are a million things those beasts could've given you. I don't know what this is, but if we're lucky it'll just be a little bug your body can fend off overnight. If it isn't…" Fssh frowned deeply, "I don't know what to say about the auction."

"I'm sure I'll be fine. I've got to be." Sal laid back down. "Who knows where Kashio'll go after this. I don't want this opportunity to slip by me."

"Just promise me you'll get as much rest as you can tonight, okay?"

"All right."

Fssh gave her a sad smile and a pat on the shoulder before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. Better stand guard for at least a little while tonight. If another assassin slithered their way in here… Sal was in no condition to fight right now.

She didn't want to say it to Sal, but something told her this wasn't just "a little bug". Sal looked awfully pale, her cheeks flushed, not to mention the vomiting. She hadn't seen someone so sick since Grout Bog…

She knew saying it right to the girl's face would've hurt, but, now that she was thinking about it, wouldn't learning it the hard way hurt _more?_

Well, it was too late now. Sal needed the rest, especially if this was as bad as she was thinking it would be. She could ask the bouncer to pick up some medicine on their way in tomorrow, and she had a friend from the Admiralty she could call to help out with the bar if Sal ended up needing more attention.

* * *

Sal didn't get up at the time she normally did the next morning. That was the first thing that should've told Fssh that her suspicions were right, but the bar was terribly busy this morning. That, and a certain, important member of the Heshin' _Spree_ had just walked in. Nadan _never_ came here. She knew he was working with Sal—wait, if he was here for her… how did he even know she was bunked here?

Her hand hovered over the security switch as he sat down at the bar. She just barely knew him; only because he made himself known to her after she started asking around about Kashio’s bounty. If he ended up having a problem with Sal, she was _not_ afraid to send him packing. "Hello there. What brings you to the Grog n' Dog?"

"Special occasion!" He said with what _looked_ like a smile. It was absurdly difficult to read his mangled face. "I'm lookin' for Sal. I heard she's stayin' here?"

There it is!

"She is, but I'm curious—how did you know she was here?"

"You have no idea how many connections I have, Fssh."

"I think I’m aware." Fssh lowered her head to his eye level, lowering her voice to a hush. "Now, I usually don't pry on my visitor's business, but if you need Sal, I'd like to know at least what you need her for because she's in a… less than desirable situation right now. She might not be in any condition to work, even."

The man gestured to her with an open palm. "That's exactly what I need her for, actually. I need to tell her about a big job I have for her."

Fssh sighed and straightened her back, moving her hand away from the switch. "Yeah, I'm afraid she's not able to take any jobs today, sir. Sorry."

Nadan's brows furrowed. "Well why not? Where is she, anyway?"

As if on cue, the door behind Fssh swung open wildly, revealing a disheveled-looking Sal. She looked like she had slapped her gear on in a rush, her scarf hanging limply around her shoulders, her belt sliding down her waist and her cap laying lopsided on her head.

At first, Nadan didn't notice how worse for wear she looked and was just happy to see her. "Sal! I was just looking for you!"

Fssh on the other hand immediately saw that her fears were realized; poor Sal looked even worse than she was last night. Her white bangs were slick with sweat and clung to her forehead, her eyes were glassy and unfocused, and she was about as red as an apple. _Definitely_ in no condition to work.

Nadan must have realized this too, now, because even with his mutilated face, Fssh could see his shock and bewilderment.

"I'm comin', I'm comin', I'm sorry I'm late I'm so sorry," Sal was speaking so quickly as she stumbled dizzily up to the counter, it was near impossible to understand her. It didn't seem like she was looking where she was going, as she walked right into the counter, hunching over it as she made impact.

"Sal, what the Hesh?" Fssh helped Sal into an upright position. Holding her shoulders, she said in a stern voice, "Yeah, you're not going out today. Go back to bed."

"I can't," Sal croaked with a voice oozing with desperation. "The man—the manager will get mad at me again!"

"The hell?"

"Can anyone tell me what the Hesh is going on?" Nadan said. It sounded more like a demand rather than a request.

"She caught a strain of _somethin'_ from Roaloch." Fssh shook her head and let go of Sal for a moment, walking to the back of the room. "The fever's messin' with her head, it seems like." Grabbing a stool from against the wall, she came back and set it beside Sal, trying to get the sick girl to sit on it. "Sal, just relax, you're okay—"

Sal tried to wrestle her arm out of Fssh's grip, but she was too weak to really get anywhere with the action. "I can't be late again, I have to get to work!"

Just then, the realization hit Fssh. Immediately a seed of dread rooted itself inside her, quickly sprouting and growing. "She thinks she's still in the derricks." She gripped Sal's arm tighter, pulling her closer to the stool. "Sal, you worked off your debt; snap out of it!"

Sal only continued to fight against her, tugging with what little might she possessed and yelling out strained and sometimes nonsensical words of protest. Until her little critter walked in, that is…

Chompy entered the main room with a loud cry, skittering up to Sal, biting her pant leg and tugging on it, like she was trying to pull her back to her room.

In her right mind, Sal would've cooed over her pet and followed it to wherever it wanted to take her.

But Sal was _not_ in the right state of mind: she was far from it. Right now, she was still on the Cult's lumin derricks with a huge debt to pay off. Critters were an uncommon sight on the derricks, but sometimes the heads of operations would bring some out to heckle the workers; make them work harder.

From her perspective, one of them had just been sent after her. And Sal was _not_ having it.

She whipped out her blades and spun around, startling poor Chompy into letting go of her pant leg.

Now, even though Fssh had long since retired from her bounty-hunting days, she was _far_ from being rusty. Nimbly she ducked underneath Sal's daggers and swept up the yote, leaping away from her. "C'mon Sal, snap out of it!"

It seemed like Sal didn't even hear her. "I'm not gonna be pushed around and treated like crap anymore!" She lunged forward and raised her blades once more. However her moves were extremely sluggish and easily dodged.

"Hesh damnit!" Fssh then noticed that the bouncer had just jumped over the counter, gun at the ready. Fssh shoved the shivering yote into their arms, barely noticing their look of confusion. "Hold this for me." She needed to get Sal out of her fevered daze _now_ before she hurt either the wrong person or herself.

She turned to find Sal with her blades raised next to both sides of her head, the sharp end pointing towards them as she charged. Fssh knew what she needed to do.

She ran at Sal, her hands held open in front of her. Once Fssh was close enough, Sal swung her blades down: but her wrists were caught by Fssh's ready hands. Hands shook and trembled as Fssh slowly pushed her back—until her back hit the wall. In her condition, Sal could barely put up a fight. The image of a much smaller Sal, sparring with her across the thick dirt of Grout Bog flashed through her mind for a split second. "Sal. Listen to me."

Sal had closed her eyes, shaking her head in desperation. "I'm sorry, I'll do better, just don't hurt me _please_ —"

"Sal, you don't need to do any better. You paid off a lifetime of debt in only ten years and I am very proud of you. You're not _there_ anymore!"

Perhaps it was the way Fssh raised her voice. Or maybe it was the way she worded her sentence. Whatever it was, it was enough to finally bring Sal out of her stupor, the rage in her eyes fading. With the realization of what she had just done, she lost grip of her daggers, and an unnatural look of terror entered her eyes.

As her knives clattered to the floor, Fssh let go of her wrists—but Sal's arms fell limp beside her, as if she had no control over them. "Oh my god… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"

"I know; you didn't mean to Sal. It's okay." Fssh grabbed her by the shoulder and steered her towards her room. "C'mon; there's a lot of prying eyes here." As she opened the door to Sal's room she gestured for the bouncer to come with her. After they all piled in, Fssh closed the door.

A minute later, the bouncer, now yote-less, came back out with an uneasy look. They walked up to Nadan and said, "My boss said Sal will probably be unavailable for a few days."

The man held the better side of his face in one hand, elbow on the bar. "I see…" He sighed and shuffled out of the stool, leaving a handful of shills on the bar, even though he hadn't ordered anything. "A little something for her, then. I'll send in a proper get-well gift soon enough." With that, he strolled out with stiff shoulders, the entire bar watching him leave.

The bouncer then realized that everyone in here was witness to that whole spectacle—and that they now knew that Sal was in a vulnerable position. If any of her enemies were in the crowd…

They were going to have to keep her safe _again_ , now, weren't they?

With a frown they pocketed the shills on the counter to give to Sal later. There was nothing wrong with her; she was a good friend of theirs, in fact. She just seemed to get into trouble way too often. It followed her around like that smelly yote of hers.

Now wasn't the time to stew about it, they supposed.

They took a position by the door, hand on their hip, stern look on their face—thankfully enough to tell most, if not all of the staring patrons to get back to their drinks.

* * *

When Fssh first closed the door, Chompy had squirmed out of the bouncer's arms and ran to the corner of the room to curl up in it. The poor thing was scared from Sal's display of aggression. Fssh had made an off hand comment to Sal that she would have to give her pet an apology, but Sal just sighed and plopped down on the bed.

Fssh took some kind of bottle from the bouncer and had told them something; what it was, Sal couldn't make out due to the fog in her head. Then they left, and Fssh went to her, looking at her with what Sal swore was _motherly_ concern. What the Hesh; her frying brain must be playing tricks on her.

"How're you feelin', kid?"

"Like I got trampled by a grawkit."

Fssh smiled and put a hand on her knee. "You're a good kid, Sal; y'know that, right?"

"Hey, I'm not innocent. You of all people should know that." Sal returned the smile with her own, but the spark in her eyes was snuffed. It pained Fssh to see her so down in the dumps.

She produced the bottle of medicine the bouncer had provided her, handing it to Sal. "Take a swig of this. You know what it is; you and your folks used it all the time whenever any of you caught Grout fever."

Oh, _that_ stuff. Sal didn’t know exactly what it was, but it worked wonders—at the cost of tasting absolutely _vile_. She quickly downed it with a shudder, hoping that the taste wouldn’t linger.

Turns out she drank it a little _too_ quickly, as the nausea came back in seconds, hitting her full-force. She doubled over and Fssh nabbed a bucket she had placed nearby, just in time for Sal to empty what little remained in her stomach into it.

Fssh removed Sal’s scarf and cap to get them out of the way, then started rubbing her back slowly. “Too fast there. Easy now…”

It took a little while, but Sal’s dry heaving eventually came to a stop. Even through her exhaustion, the smirk on her face was clear. “Fssh, what are you _doing?_ ”

“Comforting you; what does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’m not a kid, for Hesh’s sake!”

“Barfing’s an unpleasant experience, even for adults, Sal.” Fssh set a hand on her shoulder, “I don’t do this for any of my patrons, though.”

“You better not; that’d be _really_ awkward,” Sal snorted.

Fssh smiled, “You’re my friend, Sal, the best one I’ve got. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

She took the bucket to empty it, leaving Sal alone to process what had happened. She couldn’t exactly remember what happened, but she recalled swinging her blades around in a fit of feverish rage. Fssh for sure was there. So was the bouncer, and Nadan—

Nadan?! If he was at the Grog n’ Dog… He must’ve been there for her, and instead she was holed up in her room, sick with who-knows-what and not being useful at all. She wouldn’t be able to get into the auction at this rate.

Was Nadan still here? Maybe he was. Sal could take at least one job, right? It shouldn’t be _that_ hard; even without Chompy to help her. Probably wasn’t good to have the yote with her all the time anyway, it might give _some_ people the wrong ideas.

Sal stood up, ignoring the way she swayed with every footstep, went to the door and opened it—only to be met face-to-face with Fssh. Wait, what? Didn’t she go into the bathroom to clean the bucket?

"Sal, where the _Hesh_ do you think you're going?" Fssh asked, voice laced with a strictness Sal hadn’t heard in a _long_ time.

"Work?" Shrugging, she flashed a sheepish smile. "I've gotta make sure I can get into that auction—"

"You're not going anywhere.” She stepped forward, prompting Sal to back up and give her enough room to get in and close the door. “Whatever this is obviously isn't going to get through your system that fast. Back to bed."

"What?! But I—"

"You're in no condition to do any sort of work, Sal." Fssh pointed at the bed. "Please, just rest. And if you sneak out, I will personally hunt you down and smack you in the face before dragging you back here, so don’t even think about it."

Sal replied with a sigh and a gravelly, drawn-out “ _Fine_ ” as she lumbered back to the bed, plopping herself onto it heavily. Fssh had made herself busy by setting the empty bucket down and straightening up the room a little, since Sal had neglected doing that yesterday. After a few minutes in relative silence, Sal broke it, a sudden tremor in her voice. "Did I… hurt anyone, back there?"

"You spooked your little critter there, but you didn't injure anyone, no. I got kinda spooked too, if I'm bein' honest."

"Oh, Hesh…" Sal hung her head, hand cupping her cheek. "Fssh, I am so sorry, I don't know what happened, I…"

"Your brain's gettin' cooked is what happened, Sal." Fssh pointed to the side of her head, "Fever can mess your mind up somethin' bad. Bring back old memories, cause things to not make sense."

Sal had that melancholy look in her eyes Fssh was growing familiar with. She never liked talking about her past, when she was enslaved as a child. Fssh had heard plenty about those lumin derricks; to say that it was a horrible experience would gloss it over _and_ be a huge understatement at the same time. With a sigh, she gave the girl yet another pat on the shoulder. "Just… don't worry about it, kid. If you wanna talk about it I'm here, but I understand if you don't want to."

Sal put her hands together, elbows on her knees, pressing the ends of her thumbs against her forehead. "I'm not getting into that auction, tomorrow, am I?"

It was clear that Fssh wasn't going to get anymore cleaning done, so she sat down on the bed next to Sal, to get down to her eye level. "I'm gonna be honest with ya kid… if something else somehow doesn't kill ya on your way in there, Kashio will do it for sure. You don't have any chance of surviving in your condition."

Kashio. The source of all of Sal's problems in the first place. The shroke had sold her off to the Cult of Hesh at a young age, leaving Sal with little to no contact with anyone outside the derricks and a huge debt to pay off. How she was able to pay it off in only ten years was still a mystery to Kashio, Fssh and even herself—she and Fssh would never have it otherwise. Kashio had said she was proud of her for making it out of that hellhole, but Sal wasn't sure whether to believe it or not.

In the meantime, _someone_ had placed a _massive_ bounty on Kashio's head, and it gave Sal a perfect reason to exact her revenge.

But how would she do it now? Sal had lost her only opportunity to catch her, and Kashio was infamous for slipping away into the shadows without a single footstep to trace.

"Hey," Fssh said suddenly, shaking Sal from her thoughts. "Kashio can't totally disappear; there's only so many places in Murder Bay where she can hide." It was like she was reading Sal's mind. "You're not the only one after her, either. I'm sure the Spree'll think of something."

Sal tried to say something in response, but her chest started spasming with coughs again. Fssh started rubbing her back again, muttering slow, quiet _easy_ 's to her. Sal's face was burning again, and it wasn't just from the fever. "Fssh, I'm so sorry; I'm probably wasting your time—"

"Hey, none of that, now. I'm actively choosing to do this. I'm going to call in a friend of mine from the Admiralty to help out with the bar, so don't worry about that." Fssh winked at her. "He makes a mean oshnu stew. I think you'd love it."

"You don't have to do this for me, I can take care of myself—"

"I know you can, but you've done it for so long, Sal. It must be exhausting. Let someone else take care of you for once."

For once, Sal couldn't argue with her. Not only was her fevered brain unable to come up with anything, she didn’t really _want_ to. She was probably bothering Fssh with this enough.

The weight beside her disappeared as Fssh got up. “Try to get some more rest, kid.” The kra’deshi pulled a rag from one of her apron pockets, hanging it over her shoulder. “And remember, no sneaking out!”

With that, she walked out, ready to face the daily grind like nothing had ever happened. Sal was secretly hoping that she would be able to stay out there. It must be super busy; she didn’t want to waste any of her time.

Sal removed her belt and the rest of the gear she had sloppily put on, and she started paying attention to how _terrible_ she actually felt. Her entire body ached and shuddered with fever, her head was pounding, and her throat felt like it was on fire. This was worse than catching Grout fever, somehow; and Sal didn’t think there was _anything_ that could beat that in terms of discomfort.

After stowing her gear away in the nightstand drawer, Sal laid down in the bed, drawing the covers up to her chin. She closed her eyes, finally starting to relax—

Chompy whined from the corner she was huddled up in, giving Sal the saddest puppy eyes she had ever seen—still, she could see the fear in the way the poor yote carried itself, its little body hunched over and shivering like a leaf.

With a sigh Sal opened the nightstand drawer, snatched her bag, and fished a piece of oshnu jerky out of it. Putting her bag away, she held out the treat towards her pet, quietly calling its name. "Hey, Chompy, here, girl."

Normally, the smell of meat would be enough to entice Chompy, but it was Sal's voice, absent of the malice she had earlier, that pushed her over the edge. The pup creeped up to the jerky ever so slowly, giving it a cautious sniff, then a nibble.

Next thing Sal knew, it was gone. Devoured by the aptly named Chompy, who was now receiving gentle head rubs from her. "I'm sorry, girl. I'm not feelin' well; my mind's a bit out of place…"

Even though she was sure the yote couldn't understand her, it still made her feel better to say that out loud. Even more so because as soon as she finished talking, Chompy leapt up onto the bed and snuggled up to Sal, laying on her side. "I'm guessing you accepted my apology then?" Sal mused with a smile. Her response was the yote nudging its head under her chin, getting a giggle out of Sal (that turned into a coughing fit. Hesh, this was starting to get annoying).

After settling down and catching her breath, Sal fell asleep, hand on her pet's back and a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

* * *

Even in her dreams, Sal couldn’t get away from her past, it seemed. She was back on the derricks again, shoved around like she was some worthless pile of crap. Pushing and pulling cargo crates, maintenance on the heavy machinery, straight up handling raw lumin deposits and getting burned. Then blue, blue, far as the eye can see. Blue stains on her skin, blue streaks in the cold, black ocean water. She was sick of the color, yet she bore blue scars on her face and shoulder; she would carry the color, the _reminder_ with her for the rest of her life.

Every single punch and kick, every time she was spat on, all the abuse she endured—she relived all of it, including the tears that resulted from the incidents. She woke up with her eyes soaked by tears, and she quickly wiped them away with trembling hands. The deep ache in her bones and the burning sensation on her skin made the nightmare feel all the more real.

Even though she had been asleep for who-knows-how-long, she was so tired she felt like she hadn’t rested in _weeks_. She just wanted to go back to sleep, but the chills and the coughs that kept roiling up in her chest made it difficult. Instead, her exhaustion gradually blurred her vision and made her body feel like lead. Moving and focusing became practically impossible. Sal didn’t care.

Then, footsteps—distant footsteps that bounced around and echoed in her head, drilling into her pounding skull. The sound of glass being set against wood. A voice; a familiar one.

A hand on her face?

_Sal?_

_C’mon kid, I got somethin’ for ya..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sal's backstory is really heartbreaking when you think about it huh
> 
> Anyhow, this was originally supposed to be a oneshot but then it started to get longer than I originally planned it to be so now it's multichapter lol. Still not sure how many exactly but it shouldn't be more than three. Things are only gonna get worse in the next chapter but there's gonna be even more comfort, I promise


	2. Opening Up Old Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooookay I messed up a bit of the lore
> 
> Sal’s parents were dead by the time she was sent to the derricks, so I changed the last chapter and parts of my outline to reflect that. God this game has so much going on in the lore department it’s hard to keep up lol
> 
> Also the tooltips aren’t used as much in this chapter because I’m limiting them to the first mention of the words, and a lot of them were used in the last chapter. There are some new ones here though

With a steaming bowl of oshnu stew in her hands, Fssh entered Sal’s room, surprised to find her awake—she looked terribly out of it, though; her mouth was slightly agape and her unfocused gaze was directed at the ceiling. Her pet yote was curled up on top of her, fast asleep.

She set the stew down on the nightstand and took off a glove to press a hand against Sal’s face, checking her temperature. She actually felt _warmer_ than before; no wonder she was delirious.

"Sal?"

No response; not even a change in her shuddery breathing.

"C'mon, kid, I got somethin' for ya."

Her breathing hitched, and it led to a coughing fit so sudden that the yote was startled awake. It rolled off of Sal's spasming chest, shook itself and settled by Sal's feet.

"Dang, kid; you all right?" Fssh slid a hand under her back, helping her sit up. Though it seemed like she was, rather, lifting Sal up; the sick girl was so weak she could hardly support herself.

It took poor Sal nearly a minute to respond because she was coughing so intensely and couldn't catch her breath. "Could be better…" Sal groaned, "A _lot_ better."

"And you will be, with some rest. How's the leg?"

"Achey, but so's the rest of my bo—" Sal's voice cracked in the middle of her last word, and a hand went to her throat. It felt like a piece of glass just wedged itself in there; it _stung_.

"Okay kid; don't overdo it now. Save your voice."

With pursed lips, she nodded. Her leg felt fine otherwise, so it wasn't like she had anything else to say.

Fssh put her glove back on and picked up the stew, giving it a couple stirs with the spoon. "My friend was in town; can you believe it? Said he was going to be on guard duty at the auction tomorrow. He didn't have any duties for today, though." She held out the bowl to Sal, who took it with a pensive look. "It's been a _long_ time since I've had this stuff on the menu."

Sal lifted a spoonful to her lips, but her stomach churned from the smell. It wasn't even a bad smell, for Hesh's sake. She managed to get it down—but every part of her body seemed to protest it. The pain in her raw throat spiked as she swallowed, the broth felt like it scalded her esophagus going down, and that queasy feeling persisted, if not getting worse.

She must've had her discomfort showing on her face because Fssh was quick to comment on it: "I know, kid; it must hurt like hell to get it down but you should probably get something in your stomach before taking the medicine."

Sal nodded and continued, being sure to take it slow so she wouldn't upset her stomach again. She only had the appetite to eat half of it, however. Fssh then took the bowl from her when she was finished and grabbed the medicine from the nightstand to give it to her. This time, Sal took it without incident—other than her nearly gagging on the taste, but that was everyone's reaction to that medicine.

Fssh put the medicine back for her. "You good, kid?"

Sal nodded, but the rest of her complexion spoke the truth for her: she wasn't good; she felt terrible, still. Only thing that could help at this point was rest and some TLC. She seemed to be taking it willingly for now, but Fssh wouldn't put it past her to try and refuse it when her condition showed the slightest hints of improving. Sal had always been fiercely independent, even as a kid. Though, that was a given for almost any child growing up in Grout Bog.

It only felt like yesterday that she was watching over Sal while her parents worked in the muck. Not only was she independent, she was also quite a troublemaker—in that the trouble would come after her no matter how far her skinny little legs could take her. Fssh had to chase away the foreman's yotes quite a few times after Sal inadvertently struck a nerve with him. She never liked that man; he was way too overbearing on people, even those who weren't his workers.

Fssh cast aside the old memories. She could be sentimental later; she had more pressing matters to attend to now.

"All right then. Yell for me if you need anything."

Fssh left the room with the half-empty bowl, once again leaving Sal alone with her pet, who had already fallen asleep at her feet. That stew was satisfying for sure. If only her taste buds were working probably; she was sure it would've tasted scrumptious. It also made her feel quite warm, however; uncomfortably warm. It eased the fever chills, at least.

She felt fatigued and languid, and her eyelids were heavy. She didn't want to go to sleep, though, and face the terrors of the past in her head again. But her body wouldn't recover without rest, so it was a double-edged sword. She would suffer no matter what she tried.

Sal ended up stewing about it for so long, she drifted off without even realizing it.

* * *

It was clear Fssh was going to need help for more than just today—but her friend had duties to get to tomorrow. Important ones.

Unless…

Fssh set the half-finished bowl in the sink to be washed later, then walked up to the bar, where he was situated—he was a hulking jarackle, donned with Admiralty blues. He watched over the room with a slight look of disapproval, yet a careful eye. "You don't like the bouncer, don't you?"

"I never said that." His frown deepened into a scowl. "I don't know if you're caught up in it too but the Admiralty don't exactly approve of the shams the Jakes've got goin' on."

"I'm a part of the Jakes now, technically. I don't deal in any of the smuggling business though; I'm just a contact for them. Plus it gets me goods that I need." It probably wasn't good that she was telling him this, but… she had to have trust in _someone_. She'd be paying him off anyway; the amount she was giving him should be enough to keep him quiet. She always found him to be a man of his word as well.

"You're lucky we're friends, Fssh. Any other guy in the Admiralty with a spine would be snitchin' on ya right about now."

“You sure any of them even have a spine? I get Admiralty in here all the time.”

“You’ve still got a reputation, Fssh, and reputation holds up around here, no matter how old you get.”

Fssh felt the top of her head warm up. It was an uncomfortable feeling, getting embarrassed in front of all the patrons—but now, looking around, it seemed that none of them seemed to be paying attention anyway, not even those seated right there at the bar.

She brushed off the feeling and gave him a half-smile, “You never changed, huh?”

He returned the smile, but with a much larger one. “I always speak my mind; it gets me what I want!”

“I’m sure it does. Now, I gotta ask you for another favor...”

“Is it gonna cut into my time tomorrow?”

Fssh sighed. Here goes…

“I’m afraid so… I don’t think poor Sal’s gonna get better for another few days. She, ah, had a little incident earlier, and the patrons who were here at the time saw her.”

“Your point?”

“There’s a lot of jaw-waggin’ around here. Word gets around fast—especially among those who might make _use_ of that information, if you will.”

He raised an observant eyebrow. “You think she might be in danger?”

“She _is_ in danger. Remember Kashio?”

“I think I know where this is going and I don't like it.”

“She knows that Sal’s stayin’ here. Sent a Heshin’ assassin after her the other night.”

“You’re kidding!”

Fssh shook her head, a look of helplessness on her face. “I’m not. Sal wasn’t sick then, so she was able to deal with them. I started setting up my booby trap here after that.”

“I was wondering what that was for. Ain’t ya takin’ it a bit far, though?”

“Sal’s my best friend; has been since she was a kid,” Fssh frowned, a sour look in her eyes, “I’m taking the measures to protect her because I don’t want to lose her.” Then, hanging her head, and speaking in a much softer voice, “I almost thought I did, once.”

It took the man a bit to process what exactly she meant—but with enough combing through old memories he managed to connect the dots. “Oh. _Oooooh._ Okay, don’t beat yourself up; you had _no_ control over that.”

“I knew I should’ve taken her in after her parents got killed. Could’ve saved her from goin’ through all that.”

“Fssh, I had no idea you thought of her like that.”

“Like what?”

He didn’t answer, instead giving her the biggest oshnudung-eating grin she had ever seen. Then it hit her like a blaster shot to the face.

“Oh, Hesh. Yeah, listen, I do see her as the daughter I never had. It just… feels awkward to admit that to her, y’know? ‘Specially since she’s grown up now.”

“Aw, c’mon; I thought dealin’ with family was a kra’deshi’s thing!”

“My family wasn’t as big as others,” Fssh sighed, “But I suppose that’s no excuse, is it?”

“Hey, this is between you and her, so I’m not going to butt in, but at least consider my advice—tell her. You’ve known her since she was a kid, so I’m gonna take a bet and say she saw you in a familiar fashion—maybe she still does. If so, it’ll be a weight off of all yer shoulders. And you’ll have made a connection with her. Two oshnus with one saltlick, hm?”

"You got me there." Fssh reached into one of her apron pockets, digging out a large bag of shills. It was so big the man wondered how it wasn't weighing her down. "Until then, is this gonna be enough for you to stay here?"

The man blinked, his eyes wide with surprise. "How much is in there? I'm going to need to get someone else to take up the position if I do. Money talks, as I'm sure you know."

"A thousand, give or take a few."

He snatched the bag from her mitts with a huge toothy grin. "Deal." With the cash cradled to his shoulder like a newborn, he walked around the bar, going towards the door. "I'll be back in a jiffy!"

She watched him leave with the traces of a smile tugging as her lips—which disappeared when she sensed the bouncer giving her a dirty look.

"I'll double both your normal and overtime pay until Sal recovers, okay? I'm going to need you to work double duty anyway."

They shrugged, but they looked much less displeased, at least. "I feel like my actual job these days is just being her bodyguard. What'd she do to cheese off Kashio so much, anyway?"

"Absolutely nothin'. Kashio sold her off."

"...Oh. Typical."

The conversation died off at that low note, leaving them with nothing to listen to but the chatter and ambiance of the bar—until a patron barked a drink order at Fssh from across the room.

She easily slipped back into her well-kept, customer service composure, yet her mind raced as she tried to figure out the game plan for the next few days.

Tomorrow was the auction. Kashio would be there, but Sal would not. She would be busy. Probably no chance of getting another assassin then.

But the rest of today? Still fair game. The days following the auction had an even higher risk. As much as she hated to admit it, word that Sal was ill would make it to the crime lord eventually.

It was so easy, but also so difficult to hide things out here in the griftlands. For years, Fssh was able to keep her refuge for Rise members in her bar in Grout Bog a secret—even when it closed, it was never discovered. But one time, when she was hired to take someone out, the body was fished out of the bog before it was fully consumed. That incident clapped back at her hard—it caused her to lose her left eye. It never grew back.

She could only hope Sal wouldn't suffer such a nasty fate.

* * *

Fssh walked into the back a few hours later to find a flustered Sal, more red and sweaty than ever, doubled over, panting like she had just run a marathon, and clutching her stomach.

"Sal?"

She just made a strained grunting sound and eased herself back onto the pillow. "C—can I have some water?" She croaked, her voice in no better condition than earlier.

"Of course kid, but uh, you okay?"

Sal gave her a look that practically screamed, "Did you really just ask me that?" and Fssh resisted the urge to facepalm herself. Of course Sal wasn't okay. Sick as a yote—maybe not her own yote—and crushed by her missing her chance for revenge. Things couldn't get worse, could they?

Fssh walked up to the bed, removing a glove to check Sal's temperature again—as she did, she glanced down at the bucket—Sal threw up again. That wasn't good; she wasn't keeping the medicine down…

"Fever's not broken yet, and I don't think it will for a while." Fssh withdrew her hand and regloved it with a sigh. "I'll grab ya some crackers in a bit. Hopefully you'll be able to keep at least those dow—hey, you okay?"

Sal was shaking, but it didn't seem to be just from the fever chills. Her expression was strained, pursed lips taut and brows furrowed. She seemed like… she was on the verge of tears?

She didn't answer at first, so Fssh repeated herself, thinking that maybe she didn't hear. "Sal, are you okay? What's wrong?"

For a split second, their eyes locked. Fssh briefly saw fear—then Sal closed her eyes, shook her head frantically, and turned on her side. "N—nothing! I'm fine… aside from the whole being sick thing."

"...Okay then, kid. Whatever you say." She got up and left the room, snatching a packet of crackers from beneath the bar. Typical of Sal to bottle up her feelings. A definite result of her time one the derricks; the harsh working conditions hardened her heart to stone. That wasn't necessarily a good thing, though; bottles had a tendency to get full, its contents spilling over when it did…

After filling a glass with water so chilly it threatened to slip out of her gloves from the condensation, Fssh went back into the room and handed the crackers to Sal, who gave them a look of disdain. "'M not really hungry…"

"At least try to eat them sometime today. It'll do you no good runnin' on an empty stomach." Fssh gave her the glass. "Remember, slow and steady." She watched her take careful sips for a minute, then announced, "Rush hour's coming in a hot minute so I gotta go back out. I'll be back in a few to check on ya again."

Sal stared into the glass of water. Because her hands were shaking, it sloshed around like a heavy tide. Almost like—

_Sal hit the icy ocean water hard, her vision bright blue from the deposits beneath. Her eyes stung, her skin burned, yet the cold shook her to her core. She was yanked out by the wrist and thrown back onto the platform with disgrace. She coughed up the water that got into her lungs, the following kick to the gut she received only further taking the wind out of her._

_"You useless thing! You're lucky I can't leave you down there where you belong. Hesh would gladly unleash its wrath on you for your foolishness!"_

Sal blinked, and the memory took a backseat. She set the glass down on the nightstand, suddenly not feeling thirsty anymore.

* * *

Fssh’s friend couldn’t have come in at a better time. She yelled out his name as she dashed across the bar, a crate full of popped oshnu eyes in her arms. If it weren’t for the impatient customers seated at the bar, he would’ve leaped over it to be able to help her faster. He had to run around it instead. Nabbing a bottle of Murder Bay Blaster, he started to pour out drinks for the thirsty patrons. “Took ya long enough!” Fssh commented from her spot at the stove.

“No one likes workin’ security at those Heshian events! Hearing them yell about their almighty god gets real annoyin’ after a while!”

“I can imagine!”

Between the two of them working together, they managed to placate the angry hoard, mostly with drinks. Fssh was doling out the last of the oshnu eyes when she approached him. “I got my plan set in for tonight, but I’m gonna need some time to set it up. Think you can handle the rest of rush hour?”

“Fssh, please, this is nothing compared to the pressure I was under in aerostat.”

“Good, then.” She waved for the bouncer to come over so they could hear. “There’s no way I can booby-trap the whole building so we’re gonna have to do some patrol. I’m thinking around two and a half hours each for all of us. I have more rooms in the back for when you guys won’t be on duty.”

“Wait, what if the threat’s too strong for just one of us to take?” asked the bouncer.

Fssh smiled, “That’s why I’ve got this.” She pulled an absurdly large crate from under the bar, hefting it up. “I got an entire alarm system in here. I’ll place some buttons on the walls outside, and wire ‘em into a speaker I’ll put in the hall. Press ‘em, and it’ll wake the rest of us up. We’ll be at your side before you can say ‘bogshite’.”

“...Bogshite?”

“Some cult in Grout Bog known as the Boggers worshiped the damn place. Hesh knows why. We called all their preaching and prophesying ‘bogshite’.”

“They sound like a joy to be around.”

“Trust me, they’re _far_ from being a ‘joy’. They were a massive pain in the arse to pretty much everyone else there.”

The two of them – three, actually, counting a nosy customer sitting at the bar – looked at Fssh, waiting to see if she’d continue.

“...I’m gonna start setting this up.”

* * *

Fssh came and went through the door so many times, her friend had given up on counting past two dozen. And every single time, she seemed to be holding something different. A pair of pliers. A ratchet wrench. A coil of wires he was sure was made from some kind of contraband. Sal’s yote, for some reason. A mug. The tiniest hammer he’d ever seen. Sal’s yote again. A necklace—she yelled for everyone’s attention that time, asking if anyone had dropped it. No one claimed it. It was truly a bizarre and befuddling sight to see her come in and out, busy as a flead, moving surprisingly quickly for a kra’deshi her age.

He was drying a washed glass when he heard a blaring alarm so loud and sudden it made his fur stand on end—and caused him to lose grip on the glass, which fell to the floor and shattered into pieces. He swore he heard some sort of barking noise, amidst the clamor.

Then, it stopped. Fssh shouted a sheepish “Sorry!” and suddenly she was sprinting out the door again. She shouted something at the top of her lungs, which was followed by a bark, a few of them—and then she bolted back in with a frustrated, squirming yote in her mitts. “Hesh damn it, Chompy, stop runnin’ out there!”

“Tie it to something, Fssh!”

“I’m going to! I don’t know why I didn’t do it from the start...”

He stopped trying to make sense of things after that. Not that it made sense to make sense of things in the first place.

* * *

Customers came and went. Fssh finished up the security system. Sal managed to keep down her crackers. Fssh was taking it all in stride; managing Sal’s symptoms, the bar, and the security system all at once. She didn’t want to show it, but it was starting to get to her. She was feeling her age; her still-intact eyestalk ached and her joints were sore. Not to mention her back was killing her from all the heavy lifting.

Soon enough, night fell over Murder Bay, the twin moons casting a pale blue light over the horizon. Vroc howls echoed through the dark, and the crickets living in the floorboards awoke, chirping incessantly. Fssh’s friend would start patrolling first. After the bar closed after a long, tireless day, he took up his spear and marched outside, circling the building at an oshnu-pace. It was a lengthy, uneventful two and a half hours, and by the end of it a painful headache had sprouted from his exhaustion. He briefly wondered if it was worth the money.

The bouncer's turn was just as boring, though they were much younger and didn’t suffer the aches and pains that came from older age.

Finally, Fssh took up the mantle, equipped with the crossbow she used in her bounty-hunting days. She was beyond relieved that nothing had happened so far. _Hopefully it will stay that way,_ she thought to herself.

Around and around the Grog n’ Dog she went, even as the sky glowed orange from the approaching sunlight. The beasts of the night grew silent, and the early-birds of Murder Bay began to show themselves, passing by with suspicious glances and wary stances.

During a particularly long period of not seeing anyone, Fssh rounded the corner of the building towards the back—and froze.

A tall figure, clothed in a green hood and other Rise emblems was prodding at the window with what seemed to be a homemade hammer. The head was especially odd; it appeared to be made of metal pieces; oddly shaped ones… it almost looked like robotic pieces, of some kind.

Fshh noted that the person was missing quite a few limbs, replaced by augmented metal arms and legs that appeared to have orange streaks of Spark in them—odd, considering all the Rise clothing they were wearing.

They turned and saw her. Their eyes were gone too; replaced with optics. Their purple skin color revealed them to be a shroke.

Fssh set a hand on her crossbow. Something in her gut told her a fight was about to go down, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.

They whipped around and pointed the head of their hammer at her, and suddenly her skin was _burning_. Her body shook as it processed the electricity coursing through her system—

Her prosthetic eye was malfunctioning. Not good; she relied on seeing out of that one more than the other because her vision degraded with her age. She wasn’t going to take this person down alone.

With her skin still feeling like it was vibrating (and on fire) she fumbled towards the wall, found one of the buttons she installed, and slammed it.

* * *

A loud alarm startled Sal awake. She knew that sound; it was the same sound she heard earlier that scared poor Chompy out of her wits and made her run out of the room—which led to Fssh bringing her back, the spooked critter gnawing on her gloves. Fssh had quickly tied Chompy to the bedpost and left before Sal could ask what had happened.

This time, the yote seemed to be just as scared, whimpering between her loud barks at seemingly nothing. Despite the noise, though, Sal could pick up some kind of scuffling—and a deep voice yelling out curses from somewhere beyond the walls.

Despite her pounding, dizzy head, and pretty much the rest of her body screaming at her to stay in bed, slipped out from under the tangled covers and stumbled towards the windows, her eyes stinging from the harsh morning light. It took them a good minute to adjust—

If she wasn’t awake before, she certainly was now. Fssh was locked in a heated battle with someone draped in a Rise uniform, and limbs shimmering with orange Spark. There was no doubt about it—they were there for _her_. Probably another assassin hired by Kashio and sent to take her out.

Fssh was suddenly flanked by the bouncer and what looked like to be an Admiralty patrol officer – the friend Fssh was talking about? – and the assassin took a step back, taken aback by the new arrivals. They didn’t stand there for long, however, and lifted their weapon, a hammer that looked like it was sloppily thrown together with Spark Baron technology, above their head. It crackled with electricity, and then they swung it down, a bright orange arch following the path of their attack. The patrol officer lunged forward and held out their spear, blocking the attack.

Sal couldn’t stand to watch it any longer. Fssh would be fine; she had help. Sal had to go take care of the problem at its source—with or without the Spree’s help.

She combed through the dusty boxes littered throughout the room, eventually finding what she was looking for. A green cloak, much like the one the assassin outside was wearing. One of her mother’s old Rise hoods. She briefly wondered how the Rise was holding up out in Grout Bog. Her mother used to be their leader—before she got killed, that is.

Sal hastily gathered her gear and threw on the cloak. She untied Chompy, who once again gave her those near irresistible puppy-dog eyes.

“C’mon girl,” Sal was struggling to even get any words out of her throat, “let’s go.”

The yote whined, but ultimately listened and bounded to the doorway, looking at her expectantly. And, with unsteady foosteps, Sal followed.


	3. Old and New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha I LIED. The fic keeps growing beyond what I thought it would be. Next chapter for sure's the last one though. Anyway time for a new friend

Sal stumbled out of the bar, muffling her coughs with her scarf to not draw attention to herself. Loyal as ever, Chompy followed her out and was practically at her heels. Sal pulled the hood lower over her head. Hopefully it would mask the outer signs of her condition and keep unwanted attention away. Then again, members of the Rise were few and far between in Murder Bay, so she might just be attracting a _different_ kind of attention instead. Maybe if she was quick she could avoid it.

She went around the side of the building opposite from where the fight was taking place. From there, it was easy enough to find the foot trail, even with her blurry vision. She knew where the auction was being held; there were plenty of conversations about it going around and she was able to string together all that she heard into usable info. It was a large building near Admiralty headquarters—the biggest challenge would be getting in. She wouldn't be able to just walk in. She made herself too known; there was bound to be someone in the ranks that knew she was working with the Spree and they would refuse her entry.

There had to be some backdoor entrance, right? But if there was, it would probably be guarded too. Hesh damn it. Her mind felt clouded over, like those misty mornings that were all too common on the derricks. It was getting hard to focus. The wound on her leg was stinging and Hesh, why did it hurt so much? She was supposed to be getting better by now.

Sal veered to the side of the trail and set herself down on a rock heavily. She felt winded, like she had been running for however far she's gotten instead of walking. Chompy sat down by her feet and gave her a confused look, accompanied by a tilted head.

"Yeah, I know. I can't stay here for long." Sal patted the yote's head and stayed there for another minute, before pushing herself to her feet—only for the world to spin around her as that nauseous feeling bubbled up in her stomach again. She held her dizzy head as she closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. "I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay…"

...Was she?

She had to be.

Why was everything hurting so much more all of a sudden? Why were there spots in her vision? What was happening?

What was that noise?

She heard it again, after a few seconds. It was… a voice, maybe? A deep one, with the gurgling undertone the voice of a kra'deshi tended to have.

Lifting her head, Sal dared to open her eyes—there stood a tall, bulky kra'deshi in a bright blue jacket. Pretty rich clothing, around here at least.

He repeated himself. It sounded like he was saying hi? She couldn't understand him properly; it was like she was underwater. Sal replied in kind. Or at least she thought she did. She said something, she could move her lips and make sound come out but she couldn't even focus on her own words.

He spoke again. Something about wanting to go to a bar? And that his boat was late. What boat?

There was more noise, suddenly. Spree bandits! They ganged up on the kra'deshi, weapons drawn. They must want to rob him. The action was enough to draw her out of her feverish daze a little bit, making it easier for her to focus on her surroundings. However, she was conflicted on what to do. She had to get to the auction—but she couldn't leave this poor guy here, could she?

Sal decided it was best to help him out. "Hey!" she yelled, her throat burning with pain as she did so. "Na-Nadan will hear about this unless you go."

"Ha, like you know Nadan! He wouldn't care."

"Get lost, grifter. And drink some water, you sound like a dehydrated kra'deshi."

The kra'deshi seriously looked like he took that as an insult. But then he looked back at her, and his pale eyes widened. "Uhh, miss, are you all right?"

Sal drew her daggers with a flourish. "I'm fine."

* * *

The next few moments were a haze. There was blood. A lot of it. She was pretty sure she almost stabbed a guy's guts out. Chompy was nowhere to be found. She must've been frightened by everything and ran off. Sal didn't blame the pup. The bandits were limping off, now, yelling curses at her.

As for herself? She was flat on the ground. Her whole body hurt. _A lot_. Especially her leg.

"Oh crap. _Crap crap crap crap_."

A shadow shaped like a kra'deshi's head appeared in her peripheral vision. "That looks bad… you got any place to hunker down at?"

Sal tried to speak. It didn't go well; she started coughing up a storm instead.

"Good _Hesh_ —all right, you need help. Tell you what—I'll find you some as a thank you for helping me out with those bandits." His head disappeared and she was suddenly getting lifted up into a sitting position by shaky hands. "Shouldn't have had that booze earlier…"

He had wrapped his arm around her body, set underneath hers. Then, he started to lift—she stumbled a bit as she struggled to get her footing. Sal ended up putting nearly all her weight on the poor guy. Her illness was starting to weigh down on her; she was realizing, now, why Fssh didn't want her to sneak out. She could've _died_ back there.

It was getting harder to focus again. They were on the move, to where she didn't know, but the kra'deshi had started talking again, and the sound of his voice was, if anything, the only thing keeping her aware of things. It was the easiest thing for her to grasp onto, even if she couldn't understand everything he was saying.

As for what she did hear? His name was Smith, and he desperately needed a drink.

* * *

One more shot to the shoulder, and the assassin fell to his knees, supporting himself with his hammer and begging for mercy.

Fssh lowered her crossbow, narrowing her functioning eye at him. "Who sent you?"

"Kashio!" he cried with a voice laced with fear.

That was all Fssh needed to hear. She raised her weapon, and landed a shot right on the center of his head, and he crumbled to the ground. The bouncer winced. "We're not gonna hear from anyone about that, are we?"

"Not on my watch," Fssh replied.

They made quick work of hiding the body in the bushes—during the whole process, Fssh's friend kept wondering, aloud, if anyone had a bounty on this guy.

"You guys can get some rest in the back rooms if you'd like," Fssh said, "I'll handle things today."

"You sure Fssh? Sal probably isn't better yet."

"Enh, foot traffic's slow this time of the week. If I do need help I'll let you know."

With that, they made tracks and headed back towards the entrance of the bar—only to pull up short when a sharp bark rang out in the air. They looked in the direction it came from, surprised to find a frantic yote barreling towards them.

Fssh knew those puppy-dog eyes well enough. Kneeling down, she held out her arms in front of her to ease the pup. "Chompy?" Why was Sal's yote outside, and how? Fssh was sure she double-knotted that rope. The only way it could've escaped was…

"Sal!"

Her friend ran inside, and came back out not even ten seconds later. "She's not in her room."

" _Heshin' Hesh spit!_ " Fssh practically leaped to her feet—and Chompy barked at her, starting to run ahead. It must know where Sal is, Fssh thought. Turning to the bouncer, she said, "I'm gonna head after her. She shouldn't have wandered too far."

"Need us to come with you?" the bouncer asked.

Fssh shook her head. "No. I've asked for enough out of you two. You two stay here, but don't open the bar 'till I'm back."

"Wait, what? You sure you don't want us to come?"

"No. I don't want you two getting hurt more." Truth was, there was more to it—that involved her giving Sal the biggest lecture in her life, but Fssh didn't want Sal to get embarrassed in front of them.

That is, if Sal was even _alive_. Sal was strong, Fssh knew it well, and normally, never wanted to believe that she was dead. But, considering Sal's current state, Fssh was finding the possibility to be much, _much_ higher than she'd like it to be.

She shook her head. Sal _had_ to be alive, because Fssh didn't think she'd be able to live with herself if she wasn't.

* * *

Smith wasn't entirely sure how he even got into this situation. All he wanted was to find a dive to drown his sorrows at while he waited for his boat to the Pearl, and here he was, a deathly sick grifter leaning on his shoulder and an unwanted grudge from some local bandits. He had to give credit to himself though, they looked much better with those black and blues he gave them. The stab wounds the other grifter left them with just put the cherry on top of the metaphorical cake.

The grifter coughed, bringing his train of thought to a halt—not that it was going that fast in the first place. He cleared his throat in an attempt to get her attention—but her glassy eyes stayed on the path ahead, her head glued to his shoulder. Despite this, Smith decided to ask the questions that were on his mind. "Uuuh. Listen, I haven't been to Murder Bay in a while. I have no clue where to take you. Do you at least know of a safe place you could hang out at?"

She sneezed. Without covering her mouth. She was so out of it, she didn't even realize.

"Okay then, that's not going to work, uh, oh crap—" he tripped over seemingly nothing and the grifter's nearly dead weight almost slipped from his grip. He managed to lift her up again though, and her feet started moving again like nothing ever happened. "Hrmmmph. All right miss, you got a name? It'll be real boring to just call ya _grifter_ the whole time. Or _slick_. But you probably wouldn't like the latter."

Once again, no answer—but only for a minute. She blinked, coughed a few more times, and a tired hum rumbled out of her throat. It took Smith a good moment to even realize that it was a response. "Oh! Uh, your name, grifter. You got one?"

She took a deep breath then said, slowly and painfully, "Sal".

"Ah. Sal. Sal's a good name. I like it."

The rest of the questions he wanted to ask slipped to the back of his mind. He had a feeling this was all he was all he was going to get out of Sal in her current state.

As they ambled along the path, Smith hoped they wouldn't run into any more trouble. They both were in a vulnerable position—one was sick and the other was slightly inebriated and dealing with a pounding headache. He might have given those bandits a whalloping, but that was before that booze started settling in. He was feeling it, now.

* * *

Fssh's lungs felt about ready to burst as she struggled to keep up with the anxious yote. She might have gotten to the top of the line in her prime, but things were different now; she wasn't as young as she used to be. At least her hearts were keeping up.

Before long she heard another whine from Chompy—and, in the distance, Fssh saw two blurry little figures. She didn't want to get her hopes up but she sped up anyway, invigorated by the signs of life.

Chompy kept barking and whining, and Fssh soon saw why:

One of those figures was Sal. And to say she looked terrible would be a massive understatement.

She was leaning heavily on the other figure, a kra'deshi, her brow soaked with sweat, her legs wobbly and uncoordinated—and to top it off, she seemed to be struggling for air, her chest heaving.

But, she was _alive_! Maybe not alive and _well_ , but she was still here—and Fssh was beyond grateful for it.

"Sal!" she yelled, failing to mask the relief in her voice. The stranger stopped in their tracks, prompting Sal to follow. She didn't even react, she must be really out of it.

The other grifter reached for a hidden weapon behind their back. "Who're you?" he asked. Fssh could instantly tell from his accent that he wasn't from around here; he sounded like he had been raised in the Pearl.

"I'm her friend. My name's Fssh."

He gave her the stink-eye, his hand still hovering over his weapon. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"

He got his answer before Fssh could even open her mouth to speak: Sal's eyes landed on her and widened, and she struggled to lift her head up and remove her weight from the kra'deshi. Seeing this, his eyestalks perked up in surprise, and, reluctantly, he removed his arm from under hers. Sal took a heavy step forward, her entire body shaking like a leaf, then another step, and another.

Fssh was like a dart, flying to her side and catching her as her knees buckled. "I've got you kid, it's all right," she said after noticing the pained look on her face and the raspy little whimpering sound she made. She seemed so small, all of a sudden, in her arms. Or was it because—

_Fssh followed the high, furious yells to a clearing in the bog—subsequently finding a small Sal, pointing her dagger at a rather large yote. It had its teeth bared, its growling low and deep, like a machine. Sal glanced back for only a second, not even an ounce of fear in her young eyes. "Stay back, Fssh! It's dangerous!"_

_"You're right, kiddo, it is!" Fssh ran up and swept the little girl off her feet, lifting her away from the charging yote. She promptly turned around, and brought her opened hand down on the yote's snout. It recoiled from the pain, whined, and ran away into the lush thicket of the bog with its tail between its legs._

_She felt the girl squirming under her arm. "Aww, c'mon! I could've handled it!"_

_"Yeah, you might have, but not for long." Fssh stooped, set her down and brushed the dust off her shirt. "You're good, kid, but you're still little. You would've been overpowered eventually."_

_Sal's fierce expression didn't last long after that, and it melted, along with the rest of her tense disposition. She carefully sheathed her dagger, like Fssh taught her. "Yeah, you're right."_

_"Hey." Fssh set a hand on her skinny shoulder. "That doesn't mean you won't ever be able to win. You're still young, and still growing. You'll get stronger, especially if you keep up the training."_

_The light returned to Sal's eyes, and with it came a smile so bright it rivaled the sun. "You think Kashio'll be busy tomorrow? I can train with her some more!"_

_"If she is, kid, I promise you I'll personally teach you how to throw that dagger tomorrow."_

_Sal's tiny arms were suddenly wrapped tight around Fssh's neck, and she couldn't help but chuckle as she returned the hug, nearly swallowing the child up in her arms._

_"Thank you, Fssh!"_

_"No problem, kiddo."_

Fssh was snapped back to reality by Sal's coughing. Into her shoulder.

She realized just then, she was hugging Sal. Rather fiercely, too.

...She didn't want to let go.

"Thank you for protecting my girl," she mumbled to the stranger, her voice strained and wavering.

"She was kinda protecting me too, to be honest." He shrugged. "Couple 'a bandits tried to rob me. I landed some bruises and she sent 'em packing with holes in their guts."

"Oh geeze." She looked at Sal. "How the Hesh are you still alive?"

Sal didn't answer, save for her hands balling up into fists. That pained expression returned to her face. "'M sorry…"

"Oh, shush. It's okay. I know how impatient you can get."

"Leg hurts…"

Fssh's teasing demeanor all but vanished at that, and she looked down. Sure enough, Sal's pant leg was darkened and soaked with blood. Not good; not good at all.

"All right, c'mon, let's get ya back home." She looked up at the stranger. "Hey, grifter! You want a drink?"

"Boy, do I!" he said with a huge grin.

"I'll give ya a couple 'a drinks on the house as a thank you. Come with me."

With a spring in his step, he followed, nearly tripping over the yote that nipped at his feet. "Go on, git!"

"Don't chase it away; it belongs to Sal! She'll be very sad."

"Oh all right."

* * *

Fssh learned that the grifter's name was Smith. She mentally prepared herself as it seemed like she would be hearing it a lot for the next few hours. He had his mind set on the swill, he was _thirsty_.

Sal was much lighter than Fssh had expected, but there was a reason for that, she realized, as she gave the sick girl a good look. She had lost some weight already, probably due to her lack of food intake. No wonder she seemed so small in her arms, earlier.

Sal was practically dragging her feet when they finally got to the Grog n' Dog, where Fssh found her friend and the bouncer having a hushed conversation—which halted when they noticed she came in.

"Is Sal all right?" the bouncer asked, giving the grifter in question a look of concern.

"She's going to be even if it's the death of me!" Fssh found the strength in her to lift Sal off her feet, and carried her the rest of the way to the back room—much to the bouncer's shock. Fssh's friend chuckled.

"You should've seen her when a couple of Rise members got themselves into trouble with a Spark grenade. She had both of them on her shoulders as she dragged them away from the explosion."

They only then noticed the kra'deshi sitting on a barstool by the bar. In response to their odd looks, he said, "Fssh promised me some free drinks!"

"...Oookay." The officer went around the counter and took the grifter's order. He prepared himself as he poured out the first drink; he had a feeling it would be only one of many today.

* * *

Bursting into the room, Fssh gingerly set Sal on the bed. She was so out of it that she didn't react, didn't move, didn't even lift a finger. She just stared ahead at nothing, her tired eyes glossed over. Chompy leapt onto the bed and laid at Sal's feet with a whine.

Getting right down to business, Fssh removed as much of the hindering gear as she could, rolled up Sal's pant leg and started removing the bloodied bandage underneath. Discolored skin that felt hot to the touch was what greeted her. The wound was infected. "Ohhh Hesh."

She ran back out of the room, calling the bouncer's name. "I need you to run to the chemist's again!"

"What do you need?"

"Some antiseptics and antibiotics. I'll pay you back later, just hurry!"

They were out of the bar like a flash, much like how she was going back into Sal's room, after she filled another glass of water for Sal. She soaked another cloth with cool water and started wiping the sweat from Sal's neck and brow. It actually elicited a response from her, as she shut her eyes tightly and started shivering. “I’m sorry, kid; you’ll feel better soon, I promise."

_"Shh, kid, it's okay." Fssh drew the shivering child close, wrapping her in a tight hug. "Just a fever dream."_

_"Wh-when's Mom n' Dad coming back?" Sal hiccupped._

_Fssh looked out the window, casting an anxious gaze over the bubbling bog. "...I dunno, kid."_

Fssh blinked and the memory was gone. Those Rise raids into the deeper parts of the bog had Sal's parents gone for days at a time, sometimes—resulting in Sal sleeping over at Fssh's place. That time, Sal had caught Grout fever, and with it came nightmares that woke the poor, at the time, eight-year old up in the middle of the night. Neither of them slept well that week.

Sal's heavy breathing snapped her back to the task at hand. Fssh left the cloth on Sal's sweaty brow and pressed her fingers to her neck—even though the gloves, the heat felt _worryingly_ intense.

Fssh would have to get Sal to take that medicine. This fever was way too high to wait for food; she was surprised the poor girl wasn't hallucinating. Fssh would call her a half-dead corpse, but then she might start to _believe_ that, so she opted to _not_ call her that.

Fssh moved her hand from Sal's neck, to her cheek, gently rubbing it with her thumb. "Sal? You with me?"

Her face relaxed as her eyes eased open. Much to Fssh's surprise, she managed to respond in the form of a small nod.

"Atta girl." Fssh removed her hand from Sal's cheek and grabbed the medicine, using her free hand to lift up Sal's head. "I need you to take some of this for me."

Sal was unresponsive for a minute as she presumably tried to process what Fssh said. Then, shakily, she lifted her hands toward the bottle.

"I don't trust you to hold that without spilling it; let me do it."

Fssh lifted the bottle to Sal's lips—and thank Hesh, she got a few small gulps down. It wasn't done without the clear disgust on Sal's face though. "That's it." She traded the medicine for the glass of water, which Sal was much more receptive to, greedily gulping it down. Fssh didn't expect it and had to tear it away before Sal could make herself sick again. She looked at Fssh with a sad expression that wrenched her insides with guilt. "Aw c'mon kid, don't give me that look."

Then, it was a matter of playing the waiting game. Fssh continually held a rag to Sal's wound to soak up blood and other fluids, switching to a new one whenever the previous one got too dirty. It wasn't heavily bleeding, in fact, it was starting to slow down. It still looked painful, though; with all that raw flesh.

Hesh, where was the bouncer?

* * *

The second Fssh picked up the sound of the approaching footsteps, she was flying to the door as fast as a racing oshnu. She opened the door to the bouncer, who didn't even try to look surprised. "Gotcha the stuff."

"Good, thanks. Bring it in here; I'm gonna need you to do me one more favor."

They looked tired out of their wits but they nodded anyway—they were getting paid double, they had to remind themselves. "What is it?" they asked, as they set the medicine on the nightstand. Fssh made quick work of opening the bottle of antiseptic, pouring a bit of it onto a fresh rag.

"Hold her down for me."

"What?"

"By the shoulders. This is gonna hurt like the dickens for her and it doesn't help that her head's all out of wack from the fever. She's not gonna bear through this well."

Fssh saw for a fleeting moment a certain look in their eyes, a look she'd seen all too many times in the eyes of her patrons. The poor bouncer was clearly questioning the life choices they've made that led up to this moment.

But then they snapped out of it and traded it for a look of grim determination. They circled around the bed to Sal's left, then braced their forearms against Sal's shoulders, being sure they pressed down as hard as they could without actually hurting her. They nodded, and then Fssh poured out more of the dreaded liquid and held Sal's ankle with her free hand—before finally starting to rub the cloth against Sal's leg.

Sal gasped in pain and her body convulsed, causing the bouncer to flinch, almost losing their grip on her. But they pressed down again, trying to ignore her heavy breathing and the occasional high-pitched yell. They forgot how strong Sal was; even in her weakened state the grifter was writhing about quite wildly, and it would've been even more so without their hold on her.

It felt like an eternity, but soon enough Fssh had Sal's leg wrapped up like a birthday present. The bouncer lifted themselves off of Sal, wiping the sweat from their forehead.

"You can take the rest of the day off, if you want."

"I'll get back to you on that. I'm seriously considering it," they said with a face that told her they already made their decision. With that, they left in a hurry—too quickly for Fssh to express her thanks.

She sighed and pulled a chair in the room to Sal's side and sat on it. She grabbed the cloth, which had fallen off in Sal's fit of agony, and began gently dabbing away the fresh sweat. "Sorry about that, kid. You okay?"

Sal only had the energy to muster a short, guttural moan between her heavy breaths. She had closed her eyes, tears leaking out—and they were quickly wiped away by Fssh, who knew that she would be mortified by that display of weakness were she in a better state of mind. It was the thought that counted, Fssh figured.

Placing her free hand on top of Sal's, Fssh gave it a little squeeze, in an attempt at comfort. "You're doing great kid; just hang in there. Try to get some rest."

And Sal did, letting the overbearing weight of her exhaustion pull her under.

* * *

Fssh watched Sal for a little while, her chest rising and falling, breathing noisy and strained—it was only when she was sure the girl wasn't going to suffocate in her sleep did Fssh tear herself away from the bedside, finding her box of dusty old tools to fix her cybernetic eye. Compared to the technology there was today, it was a prehistoric thing—relying completely on the body for energy and hooking up directly to her optical nerves—which, in a kra'deshi, were massive and durable. It was built by someone who eventually caught interest of the Spark Barons, much to Fssh's distaste. They were infamous for treating those under their heels like dirt.

She fumbled with the eye and it came out with a satisfying pop, lightly zapping the base of her head where it connected as it did. Opening up the back, nothing looked out of the ordinary, on first glance—until she pushed aside a few wires and found that one of them had been completely fried, the outer layer of protection flaking off at the touch of her screwdriver.

Getting it out was easy enough; cleaning out the black, charred flakes proved to be more of a challenge, since some had fallen into the eyestalk. Then, she snaked a new wire through the eyestalk and plugged it in to where the old one used to be. With that Fssh slapped the cover back on, hoped for the best, and carefully reattached it to her head.

Immediately the fog in her vision cleared up. She did a few experimental blinks, nodding to herself in satisfaction when it worked. It was a high-quailty prosthetic that hardly ever required repairs, so Fssh didn't have much practice with it. When she did have to do them, and manage to do it herself without having to track down a mechanic, it was a massive relief for her. Hiring someone else to fix it usually cost her a pretty penny.

She looked back at Sal. Even in her sleep the poor girl looked uncomfortable, sheets balled up in her fists, forehead shiny with sweat and her breathing raspy. Despite this, she seemed to be sleeping soundly, so Fssh decided to head out and see how her friend was holding up—she had left him alone with Smith and she couldn't shake off the guilty feeling. Smith seemed sincere enough, but Fssh read him like a book—he was one of those types that could get rowdy when they're drunk. She wasn't prepared to have another fight in her bar. Not only that, Sal was ill and needed sleep—not noise that would keep her awake, or even possibly draw her out of bed.

Fssh sighed. Sal's mother was stubborn like that, pushing through whatever illness or injuries she had to lead the Rise. Maybe that's where Sal got it from.

* * *

“Sir, you’ve had _enough_.”

“Hesh oooooffff; gimme another round!”

Well, Fssh certainly wasn’t wrong in her assumptions. Empty bottles lined the bar, a few of them falling over at Smith’s fist pounding on the bar. His voice was slurred, eyestalks droopy and spit dribbling down his chin. Despite this, he seemed ready to fight, hands balled into tight fists and body held in a tense posture.

“How many has he had?” Fssh asked, as she walked up to the bar.

“Eleven,” her friend replied in a dejected tone.

Fssh considered the empty bottles on the bar. “...shots?”

“ _Bottles_.”

“For the love of _Hesh_ —all right, I’ll deal with him for a little. Then I have to go back to Sal.”

“Good, ‘cause I need a break,” he said, throwing his head back in relief. He disappeared into the hall, where a door was heard opening and shutting.

Fssh started gathering the bottles and stuffing them into a container under the bar. “All right Smith. I can let you have more, but for your sake, only a little bit. Also, you’ll have to pay.”

“Mmmmm’yeaah, that’s—” he hiccuped loudly, “fair.” He stuck a clumsy hand into his pockets and produced a couple of shills, which he threw onto the bar carelessly. “Hit me with’e good stuff.”

With a sigh, Fssh grabbed another bottle of “the good stuff” and set it in front of him. It took him a few tries for his hand to find it. He took a long draft from it, and slammed it back down on the bar. “Hhhow’s ‘ol slick?”

“Pardon?”

“The lady I—” another hiccup, “helped. Saaaaall, I think her name was.”

“She’s in a bit of a rough spot, but she’ll be okay. I think.”

“Can I… see her?”

“Absolutely not in your condition.” Fssh didn’t want to risk Smith breaking anything or making noise in there to wake Sal up. Which he was most likely going to do.

“Aw c’mooon! Can’t I jus’ take a peek?”

“ _No._ She is very sick and needs her rest. I’d prefer if she has the least amount of disturbance as possible.”

But when Fssh finished talking a piercing scream reverberated from the back, and Fssh instantly forgot about the drunken patron at the bar. She turned on her heel and then she was running again. “I’m coming, Sal!”

And so Smith was left confused, lonely and forgotten. He burped, the moment passed, and his lips found the rim of the bottle again.


	4. Make It to The Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suffering and despair! Not just for Sal this time. (But don’t worry there's fluff at the end of this I promise)
> 
> Also I didn’t put it in the tags because it is very brief but there is a very brief mention of a needle just in case anyone needed that warning beforehand. Yep we’re going there sort of. This also might be a valid warning especially to those who are unfamiliar with my other works… I can get very sappy when the feels come around. Just sayin'
> 
> Also also no tooltips in this chapter because I am letting you lovely readers focus solely on the angst :)

It had started out as a normal day—that is, if you counted watching a large, super-concentrated deposit of lumin getting sucked out of the sea through a pipe like a giant, concrete straw normal. For sixteen-year old Sal, it was as normal as it could get. Just another day on the derricks. She learned a lot in the three years she's been there. Don't talk back to those in command. Stay away from the edge of the platform. Don't make eye-contact with any lumicytes you find and report them to a supervisor as soon as possible—among many, many other rules that weighed her down. But she carried the weight and followed them well. As well as she could, anyway.

Her first duty of the day was to extract less concentrated amounts of lumin from the large harvest that was just made and pack them into tubes, which were to be put into cargo crates. Only problem was that the harvest wasn't quite in a spot where she could do that.

A short jarackle with white fur approached her. It only took a few words to be exchanged for Sal to figure out that this lady had also been assigned the same job. May as well work together on it, they decided.

The concentrated lumin was still in the main pipe, sitting there. Following a couple of pipes that led to some faucets, they found out that they could try to open some valves to let the lumin flow out of the main pipe, towards the faucets. There, they could filter the lumin into a lower concentration and put it in tubes. It was fool-proof.

Or so it seemed.

They didn't account for two things. One, the pressure the highly-concentrated lumin had built up while sitting in the main pipe. Two, the crack in the pipe leading to the faucet.

"Thank you so much for helping me!" Sal had said, gathering up the materials they needed and carrying them over to the faucets.

"Anytime, sweetheart!" the jarackle had replied, following in Sal's footsteps. There were a lot of tubes to fill—so many, in fact, the amount of time it took them to move all the tubes was enough for other workers to arrive and start their shifts. Hollers rang out in the salty air, and a ripple was created. Those hollers soon turned to hearty shouts, which turned to melodic yodeling—and then suddenly others were joining in, singing a great and harmonious work song—while it couldn't quite cheer up all who were there, it was enough to lift the spirits of the bone-tired, soulless workers that populated that side of the derricks. Sal joined in, of course—she could never help herself whenever the derrick erupted into song.

_Our backs may break under time and strain,  
But we'll work through mist and snow and rain,  
To pay off our debts and dues in time,  
And our freedom earned will be sublime!_

_Wait for me my darling, I'll see you again some day!  
Even though when, I cannot say._

_From the murky depths of Hesh's seas,  
Lumin is the harvest that we seize,  
It glows bright blue throughout the dark,  
Like the hope in me, a great big spark!_

_Wait for me my darling, I'll see you again some day!  
Even though when, I cannot say._

_I know that things seem bleak at times…_

Sal hauled the rest of the tubes up to the faucets, setting them down with a clatter.

_And my time spent here only rises and climbs…_

The lady dropped her set of tubes, and gestured for Sal to come with her. She led her back to the control valves for the main pipe.

_I'll break every bone and my heart too…_

They pulled on the rusty, barely-used wheel, watching as the pipe leading to the faucets shuddered and moaned as the lumin entered it. With that done, Sal started running back towards the faucets—

_Just to spend at least one more moment with you!_

As Sal ran past, a loud bursting noise blew her eardrums and suddenly her shoulder was _burning_ ; the pain was worse than anything she'd ever felt before. She couldn't even hear herself scream as she fell over, rolled away from the lumin spill, like she had been taught to—but all the other instructions she had been given for a situation like this left her in that moment, leaving her to only focus on the _pain_.

It was _excruciating_.

Sometime during the haze someone had removed her hand from her shoulder and slapped a less than clean rag onto it. Her hearing was coming back to her, slowly, along with the general awareness of her surroundings. She felt big, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Someone warm, soft and fluffy was holding her—the jarackle lady from before? She didn't sound happy.

"Don't punish her! It was my idea to open that valve. I didn't know that that pipe would burst, but I take full responsibility."

Other voices Sal couldn't quite understand. Angry ones.

"I will, but please, don't hurt her. She's just a child."

A moment later the lady's presence was gone and Sal knew why. Why did she have to get dragged into this? It wasn't fair. None of this was fair, it was all a big accident, _no one_ deserved to get punished, certainly not this nice lady and _no don't GO_ —

* * *

Suddenly the world around her changed, and she was feeling weighed down; something was on top of her and there were voices, her own mixed in with them, the loud cries of a crayote and then—

And then she was clinging to Fssh’s apron just like she had when she was a kid. The fabric was scratchy and familiar, in a nice way. She felt hot tears rolling down her cheeks, and sweat coming off of her in buckets.

"Kid, I’m not leaving you, it’s okay—"

And then suddenly the fog in her mind started to clear and Sal pulled herself back. Her voice was scratchy as she tried to apologize for bothering Fssh that she didn’t need to do this—

" _Sal._ "

Sal stopped. To both her aching throat’s _and_ Fssh’s relief.

"It’s okay. You’re not bothering me with any of this, I promise." Fssh thumbed away a stray tear and Sal then found herself unable to hold in a sob. _What was wrong with her, she was better than this!_

"Kid, nothing’s wrong with you, what are you talking about?"

Did she just think that aloud? "I’m sor—"

"Hesh damnit kid, stop apologizing."

Words seemed to leave the both of them for a long, painful moment. With each passing second Sal was failing to keep in her tears and she felt _mortified_. But Fssh kept holding a hand to her cheek, rubbing away the falling tears with her thumb. Shakily, Sal lifted her hand and grasped the back of Fssh's.

"You can cry if you need to. I’m not gonna judge you."

And Sal did cry. A _lot_. Years of trauma bubbled over right then and there, bursting out of the overflowing bottle of wrapped-up feelings. She cried so much her eyes became bloodshot, her throat ached even more than it did before and she was starting to see spots in her vision.

Sometime during the process she fell back into Fssh's embrace—and into the first proper hug she's had in ten years. A hug that wasn't followed up by her supposed comforter socking her in the face and laughing at her. A hug that wasn't cut short by a supervisor getting between them and yelling in their faces to get back to work. There were no interruptions, no ill-intent—just love and affection, something Sal didn't even realize she missed until now. And she allowed herself to melt into it, body easing, shoulders going slack.

Fssh just held her through it all, rubbing her back, and occasionally running her fingers through Sal's clammy hair—something she hadn’t done since Sal was a kid. The gesture was just as relaxing and comforting as she remembered and it made her feel awfully sleepy...

"You're burning up, kid…"

Sal thought she heard Fssh say something else, but she was too exhausted and drained to process it. With all her tears and energy spent, the heavy weight of exhaustion plunged her into sleep once more.

* * *

Fssh wasn't surprised when she heard Sal's gentle snoring right by her ear. The poor girl was exhausted.

She couldn't help but find it funny that Sal decided her arms, of all places, were a cozy place to fall asleep in. It shot her straight back to the days when Sal was a tiny little thing and took naps on the most convenient and available shoulder.

Carefully, she pried Sal’s arms from her shoulders and laid her back down. She still looked like Hesh had chewed her up and spat her back out; with the puffy eyes and flushed face, unkempt hair that stuck up at weird angles…

A whine came from the corner of the room, followed by the sound of tiny footsteps approaching the bed. Fssh saw a tiny yote head appear over the other side of the bed. Eventually the rest of its body appeared as it climbed on the bed. Fssh pat the spot on the bed in front of Chompy, beckoning her to come over. Smiling sadly, she gently scratched the top of the yote’s head. "Hey, we need to let her rest," she said, speaking in a soft voice. "You should come hang out with me out there." Chompy whined, pulling out the dreaded puppy-dog eyes. "Yeah, I know. But it’s for the better. C’mon." Getting up from the bed, Fssh felt an ache in her knees that made her bite back a groan. The past few days were really starting to get to her...

The door opened suddenly and her heart dropped as she heard a hiccup.

"Was' goin' on?" Smith asked in a voice way too loud for Fssh's liking. She could already feel the blood rushing to her head as she got up and furiously—but quietly—padded over to him.

"Get out _now_." Her voice was low and angry. Chompy seemed to share the same sentiment, as she ran around to back of Smith’s feet and bit down on his pant leg. With a low growl she started tugging, like she was trying to drag him out.

Smith didn’t notice. "But—but I wanna see how Sal's doin'!"

"You've seen her already, so I think you have an idea. Please, just go—"

One thing that was easily deducted by looking at Smith for a second was that he was very tall and muscular. Naturally, he was very strong, even in his inebriated state.

Despite all this, and being a good head and then some shorter than him, Fssh was not afraid of him: she joined Chompy in trying to force him out, pushing against his chest. Smith wasn't very pleased.

"Hey, I-I can—" he belched, once again too loud for Fssh's liking, "I can help! Jussss' lemme see her for a minute."

And then there was something sharp poking through the fabric of Smith’s jacket. Not with enough force to tear through the fabric, but in his drunken state he wouldn’t have cared about it either way. Something sharp meant there was probably a weapon, and weapons are dangerous. Therefore, he was in danger.

He lazily blinked and looked down at Fssh; even through his haze, he could see the tinges of red in her face. She had a loaded crossbow pointed at the center of his stomach. "I’m not going to repeat this again. Get. Out. _Now_." With every punctuated word she forced the weapon a little closer into his jacket to get her point across.

A point that went over Smith’s head. Literally; as the best thing that he could come up with to solve the problem was to grab the crossbow, tear it out of Fssh’s hands and throw it over his shoulder.

To say Fssh was baffled was an understatement—then again, so was saying that she was _furious_. The pause she took to process the moment, however, was enough for Smith to push her aside and stomp forwards, startling Chompy into letting go of his pants—and he promptly stopped in his tracks as he saw Sal, swallowed up by the blankets. The scarlet flush in her face scoured up an old memory of his; one where he was much younger and his little brother was bedridden with an unknown illness. His thoughts were slow, like molasses—but he eventually recalled what they had done. He found the discarded cool rag on the nightstand, picked it up, and tried to lay it on Sal's forehead—but he missed by a few inches and it ended up on the middle of her face.

"...What the Hesh?"

"I'm—" a hiccup, "helping!"

Fssh could see that now; even if he had done it incorrectly he still had the best intentions—which she had completely misunderstood. She thought he was just going to cause a nuisance and disturb Sal—something she definitely did not need.

She sighed and rubbed the base of her eyestalk. It was only mid-morning and she was already so _tired_. "Okay, listen. You can stay and help if you want but you have to be _quiet_. Sal desperately needs the rest and I'd rather not have it be interrupted."

He nodded jerkily. "Ice."

"...What?"

"Put ice on 'er lips... get 'er to drink. Did that with my brother when he—when he was sick."

"Huh." Sal was drinking out of a glass just fine earlier, but Fssh stored the idea away just in case.

Now that she was sure Sal wasn't in immediate danger, Fssh set about accommodating Smith's inevitable stay: she got a chair for him to sit on, and a bottle of water for him. She wasn't going to give him any more alcohol if he was going to help. Obviously she would much rather prefer him to be sober, which is why she didn't fully trust him to be quiet—so she asked her friend and the bouncer to check in every once in a while to make sure he was being good.

Hesh, she felt like she was babysitting someone else's kid. And it wasn't like when she took care of Sal, no. Sal was a pleasant kid to take care of. This, on the other hand, was like wrangling an unruly yote puppy.

Speaking of unruly yote puppies… Since she was still a bit wary of Smith, she did not want another potential source of noise in the room with Sal. Smith would at least listen to reason, maybe, but Chompy didn’t know any better.

She clicked her tongue, and the yote looked at her from the door with big, curious eyes. Fssh opened the door and gestured for it to go. "C’mon."

It took another round of Fssh failing to fall for puppy dog eyes, but Chompy gave in and left, seeing as her attempts to guilt-trip Fssh weren’t working.

With that, Fssh closed the door behind her and sighed, wiping her mitts on her apron. Better get back to work; patrons didn't like to wait for long, so she had to put all of it behind her for now and hope that she wouldn't come back to a mess she'd have to clean up.

* * *

"He's, uh, asleep."

Fssh wasn't surprised, but the bouncer seemed to be. "That'll happen after having as much to drink as he did. Let's just hope he doesn't die in his sleep from alcohol poisoning because then I'll be held responsible."

"Yeah."

Fssh set down the mug she was shining and tucked the rag into a pocket in her apron. "I suppose that means I'm back on Sal duty for a little bit. Was a peaceful couple of hours at least." Peaceful indeed: there were barely any patrons in the bar, and they were content to take it slow with food and drinks.

With Chompy at her heels, Fssh cracked open the door and peered in: sure enough, Smith was slack in his chair, body slouched back and head facing upwards. His mouth was agape and drool dribbled out the corner and down his chin. He wasn't snoring too loudly, and normally, that wouldn't have been a problem—if Sal wasn't awake.

She fully opened the door and went to Sal's bedside. The girl's eyes were glazed over like before and she was panting, like she was out of breath. Fssh knew a fever spiking when she saw one and scolded herself; she knew that Smith wouldn't have been attentive enough to re-cool the rag. _And she left Sal alone with him anyway_. Hesh, what had she been thinking?!

She took the rag, which was hot and useless now, soaked it in cold water from the bathroom tap, and placed it back on Sal's forehead. She got another one for her neck—Sal didn't even flinch during the process. Fssh realized, she wasn't entirely lucid… just how high was this fever?

And then she remembered that she had a stolen Spark-powered thermometer laying around somewhere that she could've been using all this time. She swore under her breath, got up, and started scouring the boxes in the room. And she wasn't having any luck. _At all_. In fact, one of the crates slipped out of her grasp as she tried to pick it up, and it tipped over—spilling its contents _everywhere_. Fssh gasped and she stood up, taking in the mess on the floor. Chompy whined and butted her legs with her big head.

Fssh’s chest was feeling tight, suddenly, as did her throat. She briefly wondered if she had caught whatever Sal had, until she felt tears well up in her eye. _Oh_.

But then her friend was in the doorway, making his presence known by his heavy footsteps. "Fssh, what happened?" Then, when she turned her head and he saw her face, "Are you okay?"

"My daughter is sick, I've got a passed-out drunkard in here at eleven in the morning and I still have a bar to run, what do you think?!"

The words slipped out before she could think, loud and laced with her exhaustion-fueled anger. And she felt guilty nearly _immediately_. "I'm sorry, I—I just—"

"Yeah, I know, you're tired. I can see it in your face, Fssh." He came further into the room and stooped down, starting to clean up the mess. "Let's get this cleaned up, we'll move our friend here into another room and then I can man the bar for you for the rest of the day."

"What?! But—but I—"

"No buts, Fssh. Always so quick to be responsible, huh?"

Fssh' lips pursed, and she looked down guiltily. She always was quick to take on responsibility—even when she already had so much other work to do. She'd often end up with more duties than she could handle.

"If you want to be responsible, stay with your, ah, _daughter_. She needs you a lot more than you realize. Or maybe you did realize, I don't know."

She nodded in defeat. He was right, and she was too tired to argue otherwise—not that she wanted to, anyway.

And so they cleaned up, and with the two of them working together, it didn't take them too long, even with Chompy pacing around in frantic little circles and nearly tripping them. Then, they got Smith out of his chair and carefully carried him into another room and into a bed. He was conked out hard enough that he barely moved during the process. Before leaving however, Fssh stooped down to Chompy, who had followed them into the room. "You stay here for now. If Smith isn’t awake by the time I’m done I’ll come get ya, okay?"

Chompy just stared at her with big, uncomprehending eyes. But when Fssh got up and blocked her from getting out the door, she started whining again, and Fssh’s hearts practically shattered as she closed the door.

In the hallway, Fssh grabbed her friend by the shoulder, stopping him. "How could I ever thank you enough… you've gone above and beyond for me, abandoned your duties, even."

"My duties are boring. It's much more interesting to help out a friend in need." He returned the pat on the shoulder, and then went out, ready to take on the role of barkeep for the rest of the day.

Fssh wasted no time in going back to Sal's room, where she found that the poor girl had drifted off again. With a refreshed mind, she searched through the crates a tad more attentively, and, finally, found what she was looking for. The Spark in the thermometer was bright and glowing, meaning it was still functional.

She cleaned off the dust as best as she could and laid the sensor on Sal's neck, like how she remembered using it before—and it got a reading, soon enough. Six degrees too high. Just as bad as she feared.

Fssh went out briefly to fill a bucket with ice and water, and came back. Sal was so warm, the cool rags were losing their potency already. At this rate, Fssh would have to stay by her bedside and regularly re-cool the cloths. This fever was too high to ignore. But she was prepared to do anything at this point, though—even lay down her life for Sal's, if it came to that.

So she dunked the rags into the ice bucket, wrung out the extra water, and placed them gently on Sal again. Then she got the chair Smith was sitting in, sat herself down, and waited.

* * *

It wasn't even an hour later when Fssh heard the door open behind her. The bouncer had cautiously peeked their head in. "Can I come in?"

Nodding, Fssh put a finger to her lips, signaling for them to be quiet. She nodded in Sal's direction—she was asleep, but she still looked incredibly uncomfortable, like she was barely getting any rest at all.

The bouncer tiptoed in, a package held against their navel—and waited until they were close enough that Fssh could hear them whispering to speak again. "Remember that guy that came in the other day? Nadan?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I forgot to tell you this but he mentioned something about sending a get well gift… it came today." They held out the package.

"Woah, wait a minute. Remember, this guy's in the Spree. How do we know this isn't dangerous?"

"Aren't he and Sal working together?"

"Yes, but he could have bad intentions in the long run for all we know."

The bouncer sighed. "Listen, I know it's not much, but he left twenty shills for Sal the other day."

"He just left them here?"

"Yep. Specifically said it was for her. I don't think someone with bad intentions would just leave money like that."

"Listen, normally, I'd like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but with Sal being sick…" Fssh trailed off. Her apprehension was clear, from her strained voice and stiff shoulders to the anxiety on her face.

"Yeah, I get it… maybe we can open it out there?" They pointed towards the barroom, "That way if it's dangerous there'll be witnesses to whatever happens."

"Yeah, that sounds smart."

So they did that—very reluctantly, in Fssh's case, as she did not want to leave Sal alone, neither was she excited about finding out what was in this package.

Using a letter opener, the bouncer sliced through the tape like butter, opened the lids—and widened their eyes.

There in the middle of the box was an exotic-looking flower, a pretty pink ribbon, tied into a bow, wrapping it together with a rolled up piece of paper.

"That's a flower from Grout Bog," Fssh observed.

"Does that mean I shouldn't touch it?"

"You’re fine; this one's yellow. It's the purple ones you gotta watch out for."

The bouncer set the box down on the bar, and, handling it like it was porcelain, took the flower out of the box and tugged the piece of paper out of the bow. Fssh grabbed the cleanest glass she could find and filled it with water, and offered it to the bouncer who gingerly set the flower in. Then, they unrolled the slip of paper, on which they found a note written in dainty handwriting.

_We've got a lead on Kashio's whereabouts, so you get better soon. Bounties don't stick around forever!_

_-Nadan_

The bouncer squinted. "Is this real?"

"I don't know the guy well enough," said Fssh. "We'll have to ask Sal if—I mean, _when_ she gets better."

"Uh-huh." They rolled up the paper and gave her a look. It was similar to that look they gave her when she had given her friend that big sack of shills, a sourness in their eyes and all—but with no trace of jealousy, perhaps replaced by concern. "Speaking of that. I would've thought that she'd be getting better by now. But she's gotten _worse_?"

"Well, she snuck out when I told her not to and exacerbated her condition. I'm sure you knew that." They nodded, and she continued, with frustration lacing her tone, "She picked up something from the _Roaloch_. Who knows how many Hesh-damned viruses and diseases come from that place. She could be fending off multiple strains at once, for all I know." Then, her eyestalks drooped slightly, and she exchanged the malice in her voice for worry, "I have no idea what I'm doing. I could be making things worse, I might just be putting off the inevitable and extending her suffering—"

"Fssh?"

She stopped. The bouncer was staring right into her eyes, as was a nosy patron at the bar. Fssh turned around and headed towards the back, prompting the bouncer to follow. "You're doing the best you can, Fssh, and I'm sure Sal appreciates it; even if she can't tell you that right now. Hesh, I know I'm glad, I've been on pins and needles worrying about her for the past few days…"

"I really don't deserve you, you know that?" Fssh said as she opened the door.

"Well, you're paying me, so for now I'm stuck with you. Now go take care of Sal."

"Will do." And Fssh disappeared behind the door, the glass with the bog flower carefully cradled in one hand.

* * *

A few hours later, they had tried to take a nap. It didn't go smoothly—barely twenty minutes into their peaceful snooze they were jolted awake by a distraught shouting coming from the hall.

"Fssh, calm down—what’s wrong—"

"I—I need help, she—I can’t get her to drink anything—"

That got them out of bed quick—they threw on their jacket and burst out the door, finding that Admiralty guy and—

They had never seen Fssh look so stressed out in their _life_. She looked like she was losing years of her life right before their eyes. Her body was shaking like a leaf and they could see the traces of dark circles forming under her eye. Speaking of which, both of her eyes were locked on them, now.

"I’m sorry I have to ask you again..."

"Need me to run to the chemist’s, I know the deal. What do you need, saline?"

"Yes, and please, be quick."

They left like lightning was at their heels, and Fssh put a hand on her chest, as if she was trying to stop the rapid pounding of her hearts with the action alone. She felt the large, warm paws of her friend on her shoulders. "Calm down, Fssh. Can you walk me through exactly what’s going on?"

"She hasn’t been having enough water ever since she got sick and I didn’t realize until now, I got her to drink with some ice cubes earlier but now I can’t get her to drink anything, she’s dehydrated and she’s dying—"

"Hey, hey, don’t think like that, she doesn’t need that right now."

Fssh felt guiltier than Kashio—figuratively. She could’ve prevented this, if only she had truly realized just how sick Sal was and took it more seriously; her poor girl was in serious trouble now and it was _all her fault_.

"Fssh, when was the last time you ate?"

"Last night, why?"

"You—you can’t take care of Sal if you haven’t taken care of yourself, that’s Heshin’ why! I’m making you some oshnu eyes _now_."

"I am _not_ leaving Sal alone for another second."

"Hey, as long as you eat something that’s fine with me; you can eat in her room for all I care!"

So they went down the hall and split at the end of it, Fssh going into Sal’s room and her friend, to the barroom. She practically sprinted to the bedside and knelt down, taking Sal’s clammy hand into her own. The rest of her wasn’t faring much better. She was unconscious – for now – and there was a wheezing sound emanating from her chest that scared Fssh to death. She had changed the bandages on Sal’s leg a little while ago and applied more medicine before covering it up, but it didn’t look at all better than it did earlier in the morning. On top of all this, her fever hadn’t gone down at all. Combine it all with dehydration and Fssh had herself a very sick girl that was knocking on death’s door.

The oshnu eyes came soon enough, but Fssh found herself unable to pay attention to how they tasted. She kept looking back at Sal, watching, listening for the slightest hitch in her breathing, anything that might have signified that her condition was taking a turn for the worst. And then her fork scraped against the plate when she meant to stab another eye—only, there was no more.

"At least you finished them. Here." He took the empty plate and handed her a bottle of water, from which she took a few distracted sips from—because it was only seconds later that the bouncer returned with the package of goodies she was waiting for.

"Beat my record!" they said proudly and handed Fssh the package.

Setting up the IV bag was simple enough—it was when Fssh rolled up Sal’s sleeve and started wiping down her arm did she run into trouble, as Sal stirred slightly and her arm went rigid. She must’ve felt the rubbing alcohol and Fssh couldn’t even begin to imagine how uncomfortable it must have been, taking into account all the aches in pains that were probably shooting through her body. "Shhh, kid, it’s okay, go back to sleep..." she said as she paused to readjust the cloth on her head. She waited for Sal to calm—and for the bouncer to finish preparing the needle.

"Have you done this before?" they asked Fssh. "Because if you're uncomfortable doing it I can do it; I've actually done it a few times before."

"Yeah, you go ahead and do that." She looked at her hands. They were still cold from her dunking rags into the ice bucket—and shaky. With her hands trembling like this, she probably would've pierced the wrong spot in Sal's skin…

She backed up to allow them closer, and grabbed Sal's hand again, rubbing circles into her palm with her hand. She ended up knowing exactly when the needle penetrated Sal's skin because she flinched, the blankets crinkling as she squirmed uncomfortably. All Fssh could offer until the bouncer was finished was hand rubs and gentle reassurances.

And then they were done, breathing out a satisfied sigh. "All done. Fluids are in the box if you need to refill the bag." They backed up, letting Fssh come closer again. She fussed over the rags on Sal's face, readjusting them again and again to make sure they were efficiently working; and she watched the saline drip slowly down the tube leading to Sal's arm.

She was so focused on making sure Sal was okay that she didn't even hear her friend and the bouncer depart the room.

* * *

Fssh hadn't been sleeping well ever since Sal got sick. It kept her up at night, worrying about her condition, wondering if what she was doing was enough – _itwasnot_ – hoping that trouble wouldn't come after her – _itdid_ – but she couldn't let her lack of energy stop her now, Sal needed her more than ever.

She took a sip from her third mug of coffee. It was the dead of night now, the bar was closed and she was sure the others had gone to bed. She had to refill the ice bucket a couple of times and she had lost count of how many times she cooled down the rags. Her hands were going to be chapped and dry by the morning for sure.

Her whole body felt shaky and fatigued, but she had to ignore it. Push it down; push through. This was for Sal.

* * *

The first thing Smith was aware of in his waking moments was a pounding headache so bad, he felt like his head was getting split in half. It was a fight to open his eyes, and when he did, darkness filled his vision, with pepperings of color throughout. His body felt like lead. It was like sleep was trying to drag him back down when he didn't want to sleep any longer.

Then he became aware of something scratchy and moist touching his face. It came and went repeatedly, like someone was wiping his face with a wet piece of sandpaper.

Gradually, more color was returning to his vision, pushing away the dark, making his headache bloom further, reaching the back of his neck and the base of his eyestalks. But with his returning vision came the discovery of what was on his face—there was a yote on top of him, licking his face. If it was trying to wake him up, it succeeded.

"Hesh off…" he mumbled, finding his voice weak and strained. The yote stopped licking his face, much to his relief, but it stayed on his chest, looking at him with puppy dog eyes. "Don't give me that look."

Lifting his heavy arms, he dug his elbows down – into what felt like a mattress – and put all his weight on them, pushing himself up slowly. The yote slipped off his chest, lept to the floor, and shook itself. Smith blinked the remaining fuzzy dark spots out of his vision and gathered his bearings—sure enough, he was on a bed, but whoever had put him there didn't bother to tuck him in. It didn’t take him too long to connect the dots, considering he’d gotten himself into this situation too many times to count. He got black-out drunk again and now he was paying for it with a painful hangover.

He started to survey the room; noting that it was dark out, moonlight flooding through the window like a waterfall. The room itself was very bland and even a bit messy, with some boxes sloppily stacked in one corner and stains in the carpet.

He heard a scratching noise from across the room, suddenly, and he traced it to the door, where the light of the moons didn’t hit—despite this he was able to make out the form of the yote from before, who was clawing at the door with its talons.

"Gotta go do your business, bud?" He got a whine in response, and Smith breathed a sigh through his nose. "Now who even stuck you in here? Heck; who stuck _me_ in here? Awfully rude of them for putting us in here, huh?"

Smith was content to walk in the dark on account of his aching eyestalks; he knew from past experience that excess light would intensify the pain. So slipped slowly off the bed, stretched the knots out of his back and went to the door, opening it. The yote skittered through, its paws noisily scraping against the floorboards. "Quiet!" Smith hissed. Considering it was dark, whoever was in the building was probably asleep and he didn’t want to bother them.

A dim yellow light bathed the hallway, giving it an almost eerie appearance. He followed the yote through another door, into what looked like a barroom—and it was here that the wires in his scrambled brain connected, and memories from the hours before started coming back to him. He brought a sick grifter into this bar and got free drinks for it—no wonder he felt so lousy; whenever he was offered free drinks, 99% of the time, he ended up nearly poisoning himself. As well as make whoever had made him the offer regret the decision.

Along with the memories came a name; Sal was the grifter. He didn’t remember the barkeep’s name, and if the yote had one, he certainly didn’t remember that one either. Smith hoped Sal was okay; from what he remembered, she looked _very_ rough. If he wanted to he could check in on her; she _had_ to be in one of the rooms he passed in the hallway. But she was probably resting, so he didn’t want to disturb her.

He continued following the yote, all the way to the entrance—but it was locked. Just their luck. But, luckily, Smith knew how to pick a lock. He had to bust himself out of trouble a few times when the family bribes didn’t come quickly enough.

After a few minutes of searching, he found some tools from behind the bar that he could use. The techniques were a bit hazy, but they came back to him soon enough, and the door opened with a satisfying _click_. The yote bounded through excitedly, and so did Smith—but with much less energy. His legs didn’t feel up to much strenuous activity right now.

Squinting from the moonlight, Smith wandered out into the fresh air and took a deep breath, the slight chill in the air tickling his chest. He heard a rustling to his left, and he turned to find the yote... doing its business in a bush. He wrinkled his nose in disgust; at least it knew to keep it to itself…

He rubbed the base of his eyestalks, trying to at least partially relieve the pain radiating through his head. He walked to the wall, not too far away from the entrance, and sat down against it, fingers still massaging his temples. He heard the yote trot across the path toward him and suddenly his lap was filled with an energetic, wriggling yote. It started licking his face again and he grunted in surprise. "Ahh geeze. You’re welcome or whatever. Stop—stop licking me!"

The yote had to spend a few minutes getting its excitement out, but when it was done, it splayed out in his lap, its tail wagging lazily. Smith just sat there, eyes closed, face twisted slightly as he processed all the discomfort in his body. He would be fine; he’s had worse hangovers: it was just an annoyingly painful thing to go through every time. It probably didn’t help that he didn’t have any water since getting up; that would help him, for sure…

Without opening his eyes, he lifted a hand and started rubbing it across the yote’s back. He hated to admit it, but he had a growing soft spot for the little fella. It belonged to Sal, if he remembered correctly?

...Hesh, he was really worried about her. He barely knew Sal, but he had a lot more fun fighting those bandits alongside her than he’d care to admit. Even in her weakened state, she packed quite a punch… No wonder she collapsed right after; she must have overexerted herself. And he couldn't bring himself to just leave her there after that; she _helped_ him, for Hesh’s sake. Help was a rare thing to get these days, he found.

His train of thought was starting to slow, and he became aware of the wave of lethargy washing over him. He didn’t really feel like getting up… Maybe he could just stay here? It wouldn’t be the weirdest place he took a nap in… Or maybe… Maybe he… could...

* * *

The hours were long and tedious. Rags, bucket, coffee. Once, Fssh had to refill the IV bag. Hold Sal's hands, brush the hair from her face, check her temperature—but for so long there was no change. It was the same thing, over and over again and she was so, so tired. Sal had to get better. She couldn't die now, in the dead of night with Fssh by her side _trying to make her better_.

The tears slipped out of her eye before she could help it. It wasn't fair, why was this happening to Sal and not herself? Sal had her whole life ahead of her and it was stripped away by _a single piece of paper_. Why did Fssh think it was a good idea to leave; she shouldn't have left Sal. This was why all this was happening, she kept leaving Sal when she should have never left in the first place. They wouldn't be here right now, Sal dying in front of her, she would have grown up under Fssh's care and lived a happier life and not deal with all the baggage that plagued her now.

"I'm sorry, Sal," she gasped, voice cracking, face twisting and eyes shut so tightly it hurt. And before she knew it she was kneeling at the bedside again, her face buried into Sal's shoulder as she sobbed her fear and frustration out.

 _This was all her fault_.

* * *

Smith blearily opened his eyes, and groaned as he realized he had gotten no relief from his headache; it was just as bad as it was earlier. The yote pup was still in his lap—it was asleep; it must’ve had the same idea as he did. Definitely not the coziest napping spot, but after getting woken up in the middle of the night, he needed it.

He straightened his back and stretched his limbs, trying to relieve the dull ache that had settled in them. He stifled a yawn and rubbed the crust from his eyes—afterwards, blinking the fuzziness from his vision and taking in his surroundings. The dew was fresh on the grass, but the sun hadn’t risen yet. Did that mean…

Smith couldn’t remember the last time he saw a sunrise. There were better things to enjoy in life, sure, like a bottle of booze, and there were definitely more serious things to worry about too—but sunrise and sunset were, oddly enough, one of the little things in life he enjoyed. It was probably the prettiest sight you were going to see in Havaria, anyway.

Sure enough, a deep orange hovered on the horizon, fading into a deep sea blue going up. Within minutes, a sliver of bright light peaked shyly over the horizon, casting a pink glow onto the clouds above. The sliver grew in size, painstakingly slow, and the dark blue grew lighter, as did the orange, transfiguring into a brighter yellow, and, for once, Smith didn’t mind the pain the light brought to his eyestalks.

* * *

Fssh wept her heart out so much, her eyestalk was aching. She had so many feelings going through her; it was nearly impossible to process. She was angry, upset, sad, and… strangely numb. On top of it all, she was so, so tired…

She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there, but it was enough for her joints to become stiff. Not that she wanted to move, anyway… she just wanted to be there with Sal, hold her for as long as she could, if not to comfort Sal, to comfort herself. She wanted to—

A movement, and Fssh could hear Sal’s heart beat quicker, but only for a second. The sound of the sheets being disturbed, then…

Two trembling arms wrapped around Fssh’s neck, and she snapped her head up, looking at Sal—

"Fssh?"

Sal’s voice was weak, strained and rougher than ever and her eyes were shimmering with tears, but Fssh never felt so relieved before that moment. With the smallest of relieved breaths, she carefully raised a hand and lightly traced her fingertips across Sal’s cheek, as if it was made of glass and would shatter at a moment’s notice. "Hey, kid," she whispered, her own voice not faring any better, but she didn’t care.

Sal was back, and Fssh was never going to leave her again.

She found herself unable to hold back her tears again in the next few moments, as she straightened herself and slowly lifted Sal off the pillow and hugged her as tight as she dared. "I’m so sorry, kid; you’re gonna be okay..."

A tired hum emanated from Sal’s throat and she returned the embrace as best as she could manage. "Fssh, I—I..."

"Don’t you dare apologize to me now, kid. If anything it’s—"

"It— _it’s not your fault._ "

Looking back on it now, Fssh realized Sal meant a whole lot more than she realized at the time. It wasn’t just about her going to the cargo docks and getting sick, no, it was also about her childhood, her parents getting murdered, Kashio sending her to those damn derricks. As much as Fssh liked to blame herself, to carry that burden… there was nothing she could’ve done. It wasn’t her fault.

But even without realizing those implications, the words were so unexpected Fssh couldn’t help but start crying again—but it was happier tears, this time. Tears of relief.

"Still, I…"

"Shh, save your voice kid." She sensed Sal shaking her head, her chin rubbing against her shoulder.

"Why are you doing all this?"

Fssh was so shocked she maneuvered Sal forwards so she could look at her while she spoke. "What are you talking about kid?"

"Just…" Sal looked down at the IV attached to her arm. "All of this. You've sacrificed so much time, and used so many resources for me… You didn't have to, I don't get it." She sighed, "It feels like a waste; I was headed towards an early grave anyway..."

"Sal, what? No." She gently took Sal's chin and turned her head to look at her. "None of it was a waste because you would've died, and I don't want that to happen. I want to see you succeed, see you live the life you've always deserved." She moved her hand from Sal's chin to her cheek, gently rubbing it with her thumb. "Sal, I… I love you like a daughter. I always have…"

This time, Sal was the one who couldn't hold back her tears, as a look of utter shock entered her eyes. "I..."

And then she was hugging Fssh again, tighter than ever, like she never wanted to let go. "I love you too. Thank you… for everything."

She felt a warmth blooming in her chest, and she returned the embrace. "Anytime, kid."

As they sat there, holding each other, taking in the moment, sunlight started to filter through the window and onto the floor.

They had made it to the sunrise, and things were going to be okay.

* * *

Smith held open the door for the yote, who barreled inside and started scratching its head with one of its back legs. He had left some of his belongings in the back room, including his boat ticket. Last he remembered, it was late coming into the docks. Something about a quarantine, and that it had to stay out in the bay until they sorted things out. Whatever the case, he wasn’t about to miss it, now. He had business at home to sort out…

But he also wanted to check in on Sal before he left; at least make sure she was okay. He probably had to apologize to the barkeep for the trouble. He might not have remembered her name, but he knew she was a sweet lady…

"Hello, Smith."

Speak of the devil. Smith quickly shut the door and flashed her a nervous smile, hoping she didn’t notice that the door was open. "Uhhh. Hi!"

She waved her hand dismissively. "No worries about the door. But if you had to go to the bathroom, you just could’ve asked, there's a bathroom in the back..."

"Oh no, it wasn’t me. It was the yote."

"Oh. Uh, thanks for taking her out for me, I guess." She put down a mug of something warm she was tending to, walked around the bar, and bent down, hands on her knees. "Here, Chompy, c’mere girl!"

The yote scrambled to its feet and ran right up to her with its tail moving a mile a minute. Chompy stood up on her hind legs and nipped at the barkeep’s apron. The barkeep herself was chuckling and rubbing the yote’s head.

"Okay, so Chompy, and… I forgot your name, ma’am, what was it?"

"I didn’t expect you to after all you drank yesterday. Name’s Fssh."

"Yeah, about that..."

Fssh shook her head. "You’re fine. I should’ve known what I was getting myself into. You weren’t being destructive or anything, so you’re good. If anything, I’m concerned about your well-being..."

"I’ve had more in the past, so you don’t need to worry yourself about lil’ ol’ me. I’ll be peachy keen by the evening."

There was a weird look of shock on Fssh’s face. Maybe it was more like bewilderment. Whatever it was, Smith couldn’t decipher it because it faded soon after. But it was only then that he noticed the dark bags under her eye. He was about to ask about it until she started to speak again: "Well, it was nice havin’ ya around. You probably don’t remember, but you tried to help me take care of Sal yesterday. You remember Sal, right?"

"I do," Smith nodded. "And I did what now?"

"You tried to cool her down. But you were so drunk you didn’t do so well. And then you passed out after a few hours."

"Ah, geeze… Sorry about that."

"Nothin’ you could’ve done. But she’s going to be okay; her fever just started going down." Fssh straightened and walked back behind the bar, picking up the mug she was attending to before.

"What’s that?" asked Smith, pointing to the mug.

"Hot chocolate; making it for Sal. You want some too?"

"Yeah, sure. I could use something for this headache..."

* * *

Fssh entered the back room with a steaming mug, followed by Chompy, and, much to Sal’s surprise, a very tall kra’deshi that she was sure she knew. What was his name… Smith? That sounded right.

"Hi Sal!" he said in a bellowing voice that made her flinch as her headache intensified for a second. "Oh. Sorry."

"Yeah, she’s still working out the bumps. But she’s on the mend." Fssh carefully handed the mug to Sal, who took it gratefully. Looking at her now, Smith noticed just how pallid her face was, how weak and tiny she looked in the bed… his eyes darted to a bandage on her arm, and an empty IV bag on the nightstand. Man, her condition must’ve been more serious than he realized.

He sat down on a chair in the room and started sipping at his own cocoa. Fssh sat across from him, on the foot of the bed. "So how’re you feelin’?" he asked Sal. "You were in rough shape yesterday..."

"I still am," she said, her voice sounding like it had taken a grater to it, "But I think I’m getting better. Just need some rest."

"That's good to hear." He took another sip of cocoa. It was pleasantly sweet and coated his mouth with the flavor. "What did you catch, anyway? Seemed too severe to be like, a little cold or something."

"She had a run in with some beasties from the Roaloch," Fssh explained. "I'm surprised that the bouncer didn't get it though; they were with her at the time…"

"My immune system was never the greatest, either," Sal added. "I can't count how many nights I spent shivering in the bottom of that lumin pipe, my body feeling like it was falling apart… not that my supervisors cared. I only survived because I'm too stubborn to die."

Fssh looked at her with sympathy, gingerly grabbing her free hand and rubbing her thumb over her skinny fingers. "Oh, kid… is that what you were so riled up about yesterday?"

"Huh?"

"You woke up yelling so much I was surprised you didn't lose your voice. Seems to me you had a night terror."

"Huh…" she looked into her mug, swirling its contents around in thought. "I don't remember, but I probably did."

"Sorry to interrupt, but what are you talking about?" Smith asked. He had lost focus during the conversation and downed the rest of the cocoa, and now his mug was empty—as was his mind of the current topic. "I uh, wasn't paying attention…"

"Just my childhood, not a big deal," Sal said. "It's been on the forefront of my mind for a while, actually… I don't know why. I've been focused on taking down Kashio for so long, literally all I could think about was how many different ways I could just… get back at her, get my revenge. Then I got sick, and… all those memories came back to kick me in the ass and I forgot just how much it hurt."

"The fever was messing up your head too, don't forget." Fssh squeezed her hand a little tighter in another attempt at comfort.

Astonished, Smith's jaw dropped. "Did I hear that right? You're going after Kashio?"

"Yeah, she's the one who sent me to those derricks in the first place." She sat up a bit, her fingers curling around the mug handle a bit tighter. "As soon as I'm better I'm gonna find her and have some choice words with her, and it won't be pretty."

"That's the Sal I know," Fssh said with a huge smile, the brightest smile Sal's seen on her face in days.

"Oh man… uh, good luck with that." Smith stared into his mug so hard, he could've burned holes into it. Then, he perked up and leaped out of his seat, startling the others. "My boat!"

"What boat?"

"I have a boat to catch to get home…" but even as he was standing there, raring to go, his features were soft, hesitant. The look he gave them was almost… sad? "Hey, I, uh… I had a lot of fun, to be honest. Even though we haven’t talked much I feel like I’ve come to know you guys a lot." He smiled, but the gloomy look in his eyes were still there. "I hope you guys don’t mind if I think of you as friends. If you’re ever in Pearl-On-Foam, look me up. I can take you on a grand tour or something."

Sal smiled, "I think I’d like that. And um… thanks for saving me, Smith. I really appreciate it."

"Eh, don’t mention it." He shoved his empty mug into Fssh’s hands, and just like that, he was gone.

"I like him. He seems like a fun guy to hang out with."

"Tell me about it," Fssh said with a long and heavy sigh, like she knew something Sal didn’t. Her curiosity was piqued, but she would ask later. She had finished up the rest of her cocoa, and the warmth made her sleepy…

* * *

Sal had spent most of the day sleeping off her aches and pains, interrupted by Fssh every now and then who made sure she was staying properly hydrated. She was starting to feel pangs of hunger for the first time since she had gotten sick—she almost forgot what it felt like. With her returning appetite, she was able to get down more stew than she had last time. And keep it down, too.

There was one time, however, where her sleep was interrupted by someone other than Fssh—not only did it startle her, but it also scared Chompy so badly she jumped from her spot by Sal’s side and fell off the bed. Sal rubbed her temples, trying to stave off her worsening headache, and looked to the door to see who had given her such a rude awakening.

"Smith?"

"The one and only," he said with a smile, but he faltered. "Turns out I missed my boat; it actually left yesterday while I was conked out. I’m stuck here until I can find another one going to the Pearl. Preferably one without stops along the way."

"Oh no… Well, you can bunk with me for a while, I don’t mind. Fssh might, though."

"I already talked it out with her. She said she’s gonna keep an eye on me though. She didn’t say which one it would be." At that, Sal failed to bite back a chuckle, unfortunately aggravating her throat in the process.

"Anyway." He sat down in the chair that was still in the room, and reached down to pet Chompy, who was running excited circles around his feet. "You said you were planning to take down Kashio earlier?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I think I might wanna join you in doing so. Taking down a crime lord sounds fun and it might help me get out of here faster. And I can fight alongside you more; I had fun taking down those bandits with you yesterday. I don’t know if you remember, but I did!"

Sal blinked, her eyes as wide as saucers. She didn’t expect someone like _him_ to want to help her take down Kashio. Usually the ones who did were in positions of power, ones who wanted the bounty as badly as her passionate hatred for Kashio burned bright.

"Smith, I… I’d appreciate that very much," she said, her voice high and her breath flighty. "I can use all the help I can get!"

* * *

And so they spent the rest of that day chattering away, starting with the work Sal had done so far. She told him about Nadan and how he was initially planning to get her in the Cult’s auction, then told him about the note she had gotten. She even delved back into her past when Smith asked about it—she reinstated her hatred for Kashio after what she had done to Sal and her family. Then Smith talked about his own childhood, what it was like to grow up in the Pearl, his own family, and how he had recently reconciled with his family, earning back his inheritance. Even when they thought they had run out of things to talk about, the conversation kept dragging on, hopping from subject to subject.

Fssh kept periodically checking on them. This was the happiest she’s seen Sal in a while; not only that, it was probably the chummiest she’s seen her been with someone since she came to Murder Bay. There was a genuine bond forming here, and Fssh found herself… strangely okay with that. Hell, Sal was allowed to make connections but she knew to take them with a grain of salt. But here, Sal seemed less tense, more easygoing—especially considering how quickly she had opened up about her past to Smith. Likewise, he opened up to her like a tin can—they so easily trusted each other and it was an oddly heartwarming thing to witness.

They were going to be really good friends; she could tell.

* * *

The next couple of Sal’s days were spent in bed as she slept off the rest of the major discomforts in her body. Her fever had finally broken and her leg was starting to heal. Most exciting, for her at least, was that she was, eventually, finally able to get out of bed and walk without assistance, without feeling the world tip and spin around her. By the third day she was barely napping and was wandering out into the barroom, hanging out with Smith as he slummed, or, if he was out doing negotiations with Nadan for her, chatting away with Fssh as she nursed a mug of cocoa.

She was feeling good, for the first time in a while. Not just physically, she was feeling confident again. She was able to put her past a little further behind her, and while she knew it might rear its ugly head again in the future, she knew she would be able to handle it better than before. She had Fssh she could count on. And Smith too. He was a very good listener, she found. And she was super grateful to have them. She wouldn’t trade their love for anything.

* * *

Sal strapped her knives to her belt and walked into the barroom, her gait steady and assured. Smith was right behind her, hammer on his back. "You okay?"

"A little nervous, if I’m honest." Sal looked back at him. "I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life. I’ve dreamed of what it would be like countless times. What if I fail; what if it’s not what I’m expecting?"

"You got this in the bag, Sal," Fssh called from her spot at the bar. "Especially since you have extra help with you."

Sal felt a smile tugging at the corner of her lip. "Yeah. You’re right." She looked back at Smith. "You ready?"

"More than ever!"

"Nadan just sent word. He’s got the bait set; their ‘cache’ of stuff reeled Kashio in. She thinks it’s powerful weaponry that the Admiratly could abuse to bring them more power, and she’s set on making that not happen."

"Some mighty powerful bait indeed," Sal muttered. She and Smith started walking past the bar, until Fssh stopped her, calling her name.

And then she was suddenly pulled into a hug. "I… be careful, kid."

Sal rolled her eyes, but returned the hug all the same "I will, _Mom._ " The last word was dragged-out and laced heavily with sarcasm, but there was a twinge in her voice that told Fssh she might actually mean it, deep down...

Fssh didn’t want to let go, to see that sweet little girl she’d known all her life go out there and risk her life for revenge—but that would be selfish of her, wouldn’t it? This was what Sal wanted, and as much as she wanted to stop her, she couldn’t… but she had more faith in Sal than before. She’d proven herself strong and capable. And she had another set of hands to help her, now.

"I hate to break this heartwarming moment up but we gotta go," Smith muttered, and Fssh knew he was right so she let go of Sal, patting on her shoulder.

And then they were gone, ready to take on the world ahead of them. And Fssh would be there when they came back, ready to welcome them back with popped bottles and opened arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I had fun writing :D
> 
> I already have some more whumpy ideas and I'm probably gonna write 'em out very soon; I've noticed whenever I start writing for a new fandom I have this little writing high that comes with the rush of excitement I have whenever I get into something new so I might be stuck on GL for a while. I'll get back to my other stories though... eventually™


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